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Resolution of a testing issue. Victims of Newfoundland and Labrador's breast cancer exam scandal accept a multi-million-dollar settlement.

In charge again? Ousted president Manuel Zelaya may just get his job back -- as negotiations to return him to power conclude.

The Blair pitch project. Tony Blair's bid to become president of the European Union runs into a soupçon of a snag.

Cabin fever. A California man spends twenty years trying to recreate the first-class interior of a Pan-Am jetliner -- in his garage.

No more knit-picking. After leaving them out in the cold, The Bay agrees to sell hand-made Cowichan sweaters in some of its Olympic boutiques -- alongside its own knockoffs.

And this proves it's the prinicipal that counts. For nineteen years, a headmaster in Scotland presides over a school -- without a single pupil.

As It Happens, the Friday edition. Radio that never suffers for lack of class.

It's very difficult to make up for a mistake that cost some people their lives, and others their health. But today, health authorities in Newfoundland took a step meant to do just that. They reached a 17.5-million-dollar settlement with the hundreds of people whose breast cancer tests were botched.

Daphne Coffin is one of the members of the class-action lawsuit that lead to the settlement. Her breast cancer was misdiagnosed in 2001 -- and after the scandal broke she had to fight to get new test results. She's now being treated for a recurrence of the disease.

The settlement comes after a government inquiry into the testing problems. Daphne Coffin spoke to the inquiry on March 20, 2008. Here is part of what she said then, for the record.

Today, we reached Daphne Coffin at her home in St. John's.

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

That might as well be the mantra of Manuel Zelaya. Ever since a military coup forced him to flee to Costa Rica on June 28, the ousted Honduran president has been trying to return to power.

And now, after more than four months, he may finally get his wish. Today negotiators were putting the finishing touches on a deal that could see Mr. Zelaya back in charge.

Linue De Paula is a Brazilian diplomat and the Brazilian representative for the Organization of American States. We reached him earlier this afternoon in the Brazilian embassy in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. Carol spoke to him through our translator, Filipe Leite.

Imagine a world where you can get into your car, noiselessly and gently rise above your house, and swoosh off to work. Or, if you'd prefer, to Paris -- in just an hour from Toronto. And from Paris to the Moon. But that could take a few days. Or, a world in which you could launch an intercontinental ballistic missile without anyone even noticing. (Of course, that world, even in your imagination, probably wouldn't exist for very long.)

These are just some of the possibilities -- even probabilities -- if a theoretical new form of propulsion called an 'emdrive' comes to fruition.

The 'em' in "emdrive" stands for electro-magnetic. And at the heart of the emdrive's technology is a resonant, tapered cavity filled with microwaves, which, through a relativistic effect, cause thrust. This is then used to propel whatever craft the emdrive is in.

Got it? In short, these microwaves bouncing around create energy, which is then converted into a form of propulsion -- without making a sound. Or shooting any sort of residue, hot air, smoke, or anything out the back. It just, well, moves. Like a ghost.

Which would make it very attractive as a form of engine for a car. Or, a ballistic missile, which, with no telltale exhaust plume, would be almost impossible to detect. Which is why there are reportedly secret projects developing it underway in China, the US, and Russia.

In any case, most physicists think the whole idea of creating thrust out of nothing but microwaves is outright junk science. But, as the late British writer Douglas Adams noted in The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, physicists have been wrong about the notion of improbable drives in the future.

School's out for summer! ...and autumn, winter, spring... the following summer¿ the summer after that¿ and, well, you get the picture. Durness Parish School was located in the far north of Scotland. Built in 1760, the school provided education for the local community. There was a classroom, a nice yard and a headmaster overlooking operations, who was also the teacher at the school. The headmaster would go about his daily chores, and then after a busy day at the school retire to his on-site accommodation: everything you would expect from a school principal of that time. Oh, except for one thing: for 19 years, Durness Parish School had no students.

For the full story, we reached Graham Bruce, the current headmaster of Durness Primary School.

That's it for the first part of As It Happens, but we'll be back after the news. I'm CO.

And I'm BB.

The battle, it turns out, is only half the battle. Soldiers who return home from war with Post Tramautic Stress Disorder or PTSD suffer from depression and panic attacks, drug abuse and alcoholism. But most concerning, they are especially at risk for committing suicide. In 2007, Frederic Couture, a 21-year old soldier from Roxton Pond, Quebec, killed himself at home less than a year after losing a leg in Afghanistan. His mother found him as he lay dying.

Mr. Couture had also tried to shoot himself minutes after he was injured on the battlefield. Luckily, his colleagues intervened. He was patched up and sent home. But his family was never informed of his initial suicide attempt. Mr. Couture's mother, Linda Lagimoniere, is now admonishing the military command for not providing adequate support for its servicemen and women, and for their families.

For the record, here is Linda Lagimoniere, speaking with Radio Canada's investigative program, Enquete:

Ms. Lagimoniere is not the only one concerned about the lack of support for soldiers returning with PTSD. Retired General and Senator Romeo Dallaire knows the impact of Post Tramatic Stress first-hand. He is now urging the Canadian military to fully face the effects PTSD has on its troops.

We reached General Dallaire in Ottawa:

You could be forgiven for believing Ray Browne's nickname was "Pshaw." When he began pushing for the academic study of popular culture in the late 'sixties, that dismissive syllable was uttered almost every time his name came up.

"Browne?" a traditionalist academic would scoff. "Teaching from issues of TV Guide? Pshaw!" Or an article about his innovative study of Star Trek would prompt grumpy newspaper readers to look over their half-glasses and grumble, "A university course that includes the works of Gene Roddenberry? Pshaw!"

Well, in the end, Ray Browne got the last "Pshaw." He's considered a pioneer in the field of popular-culture studies -- and thanks to his persistence, scholars have accepted that what transfixes a society is worthy of examination -- no matter how disposable it seems.

Ray Browne died last week, at the age of eighty-seven.

Doctor Browne began his academic career as a folklorist and literary scholar. But in the 'sixties, he found that his notion of what constituted "folklore" was expanding. So he set out to convince his colleagues that a true picture of a society emerged only when you looked at what happened in its day-to-day existence -- and that high culture wasn't the only kind of culture. As he once put it, "There's just as much glory and virtue in being a Madonna person as in being a Hemingway person. If you want to study culture through Madonna, it seems to me that's a marvelous opportunity."

In 1973, he set up the first Department of Popular Culture, at Ohio's Bowling Green State University. And as I mentioned, establishing that department wasn't all comic books and bubblegum for Doctor Browne. In the early stages of his proselytizing on behalf of popular culture, he had a bumpy ride from fellow scholars and the press. In 2003, he explained to the CBC's Nick Purdon how he came up with his catch-all term -- and how it was received.

Today in British Columbia, the Olympic torch began its epic journey across Canada, and it's expected to bring joy to the hundreds of communities it passes through.

A few days ago however, it looked like the members of the Cowichan tribe on Vancouver Island would be protesting as the torch went by. That's because the Cowichan tribe had failed to negotiate a deal with The Hudson Bay Company that would have had their handmade sweaters sold with other official Olympic apparel. Instead, when The Bay unveiled the clothing line, it included an imitation of the Cowichan sweater -- a decision that proved, not surprisingly, to be controversial.

Now that controversy appears to be resolved. Ernest Elliot is the General Manager of the Cowichan Tribe in Duncan, B.C.

Henry Kissinger once lamented, "When I want to call Europe, I cannot find a phone number." Well, that's about to change. Soon Washington will know exactly who to call.

Tony Blair hopes it's him. The European Union is poised to ratify a treaty that will beef up the position of EU president. And the former British prime minister has made it no secret that he wants the job. But it's not clear that those on the Continent are keen on the idea.

Julian Glover is the chief editorial writer for The Guardian newspaper. We reached him in London.

The Mistress of Nothing is a story that takes the reader to an unusual place and time¿on a journey down the Nile during the Victorian era.

It's one of the books shortlisted for the Governor General's Literary Award. The author, Kate Pullinger, joined the other nominated writers this week at the International Festival of Authors in Toronto, where she read an excerpt.

The book is narrated by a maid named Sally. In this passage, she's referring to Omar, the manservant of the household.

Kate Pullinger, for the record:

You might think you're a plane enthusiast. Maybe you've got a collection of artifacts, or you go to the airport now and then to watch the jets land. But we'll wager that in terms of dedication you don't come close to Anthony Toth of Redondo Beach, California. An obsessive fan of Pan Am Airlines, Anthony Toth has spent the last 20 years painfully trying to recreate a fully authentic Pan Am First Class cabin. In his garage. Which is where we reached him.

What's Halloween without a good ghost story? And here's one that's sure to scare you. It seems that Britain's most haunted village is giving up the ghost.

Pluckley, England is a tiny village in a picturesque part of Kent that's reputed to have a least a dozen ghosts, including The Red Lady and The Highwayman. But now the Parish Council there has played the ultimate trick -- and cancelled Halloween. Those hoping for a spectral visitation in Pluckley to go with their miniature Mars bar treats will be as disappointed as Linus waiting for the Great Pumpkin.

This Halloween, according to the Parish Council website, there will be no ghost tours in Pluckley. It also says that there will be absolutely no entertainment provided for visitors -- that includes no beer tent, no barbecue, no fun fair, and no hog roast.

And what, I ask you, could be more scary than halloween without a hog roast?

Parish council clerk Jackie Grebby says that previous Halloween events in Pluckley have caused problems and gridlocked the whole village. So this year she says there will very little to do in Pluckley -- apart from having a quiet drink.

Well, we decided to blow the spooky cobwebs off some tape in our radio archives and discovered that the Plucklians have been torn about Halloween visitors to their village for quite some time -- the ghostly ones and the human ones. As It Happens checked in with some of the villagers while they were having a quiet drink back in 1995 to discuss the ghost issue. From our archives, here's Michael Enright speaking to Ted Kingston-Miles, who was the landlord at one of Pluckley's favourite haunts, The Blackhorse Pub.

Remember Toucan Sam? His motto: "Follow your nose! It always knows!"

Well for years scientists have suspected that's how migratory birds navigate -- by relying on their sensitive beaks to tune into Earth's magnetic fields.

But what works fine for finding Froot Loops -- at least for Sam -- may not explain the secret behind most birds' built-in compasses. More likely, they depend on a genuine "bird's eye view".

To shed light on this migratory mechanism, we reached Professor Henrik Mouritsen of the University of Oldenburg, in Germany. He's just completed a study of the European robin's navigation system.