TO MONTSERRAT-SMITHY STYLE

Before I continue I must state that Antigua airport has, without doubt the poshest grounds and entrance/exit I have ever seen. As we pulled in this morning, it was if we were turning into some really affluent Caribbean mansion with an entrance to match. As we drove, the Sanford Cricket ground was on our right side, actually inside the airport grounds! Palm trees and ornately colourful tropical flower beds waved in the warm breeze.

We had some hours to kill which we did by plonking ourselves in the airport restaurant which, would you believe it, was showing the Third Test live from Edgebaston. Trish read her book.

At the close of play we meandered off (everyone meanders here) to catch the flight to Montserrat and what a flight that was. I had done some research and had warned Trish that the plane we would be traveling on was likely to be a small one, and so to be prepared for a different kind of flight than that experienced before. When in Australia some years ago I had 'flown with Smithy' an gnarled Antipodean who owned an ancient Tiger Moth airplane much in the style of Telly Savalas' character in 'Capricorn One' or more recently, the pilot friend of Indiana Jones who rescues him at the start of 'The Temple Of Doom'. Smithy sat behind me in the double cockpitted Moth imploring me only to 'not touch anything' and to 'tell me if your going to be sick' (as I said, he was sitting behind me and had some previously unpleasant experiences). When he asked me if I wanted a better look at the Sunshine Coast and I foolishly said yes, he didn't fly lower but simply banked the tiny plane steeply to the right.

So we were ready for the six seater twin prop island hopper that awaited us on the tarmac. Not so the female half of the American couple that were to accompany us. I could tell from the look on her face that she hadn't been properly briefed. In fact she looked as if she was was walking do her doom as we approached the flimsy looking aircraft. Soon, the captain, those two, Trish and I were all squeezed into the minute cockpit. And we took off, flying at about 2,000 feet on our way to Montserrat. As we approach the volcanic island we hit some minor turbulence. The plane rocked about a bit and the female American, already jumpy, grabbed the nearest thing to her.....the pilot's seat. Smithy would for sure not appreciated that!