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This is my first trip across the Atlantic and my first tropical expedition. Even more exciting, it is a trip with a purpose and has come about due to the marvellous connection between the Guildhall School of Music & Drama and Sir George Martin. Little did I realise during my teenage Beatle obsession that I would not only meet their producer but put on a big show in his honour and now be instrumental in setting up an scheme he came up with to bring music education to the island of Montserrat. So I'm quite amazed and delighted to be here, staying in his house on that very island. What a journey!
Yesterday's travel wasn't too bad. An 8 hour flight from London to Antigua was just within the outer limits of my comfort zone; I enjoyed a couple of movies, failed to identify with any certainty the contents of the on-flight meal (other than a slimey green substance that I believe was an attempt at spinach) and clutched the arm rests like a girl during the brief patches of turbulence. Arriving in Antigua was at first exciting - feeling the heat of the tropics for the first time and
walking to the small terminal building across the tarmac - and then chaotic as the building became swallowed up in an entangled queue of sweating tourists waiting to get into the departure lounge. I managed to find the Fly Montserrat check-in which was a man in a neon bib to whom I trustingly gave my passport as he went off to check me in somewhere amongst a heap of suitcases. He came back with some bits of paper that meant I could join the big queue of people. It felt like a very long wait but I had plenty of time and luckily a big bottle of water too.
The next part of my journey was easily the best bit. At about 5 minutes before our departure was due my flight was called. There were six passengers and we were walked over to a very small plane. There was just enough room in the tail for our cases then we had to clamber over fold-down chairs to take our seats. I had a prime seat just behind the pilot and all my apprehensions and anxieties about flying in a tiny plane were taken over by supreme excitement as I
could see all the panels of buttons and flashing lights and the steering wheel thing. The pilot was very relaxed and composed which put me immediately at ease as we taxied down the runway past the massive hulk of the jumbo Virgin plane. I also liked having the propellors whirring by my ears even though it was very noisy, it felt a bit like being on a lawn mower. One that could fly. We hurtled down the runway towards the sea and took off with great ease. This sort of flying makes a lot more sense to my unscientific brain than those big chunky jumbos which really shouldn't be allowed to leave the ground.
It was a smooth and short flight, but a happy one. We approached Montserrat which was shrouded in clouds, some I think volcanic. The north end of the island lush and green with cliffs and forested hills then further along to the south you could see where a massive flow of lava had run down from the crater to the sea a huge stretch of barren brownness.
Montserrat airport was very small and so there was no queueing just a quick question or two
from the immigration man and there was my suitcase waiting for me and so out I went. I was greeted by a smiling gentleman asking if I was going to Olveston House when I said I was he was delighted and introduced himself as Thomas Lee. The other drivers he'd been waiting with obviously enjoyed Thomas's enthusiasm of having a young lady as his passenger and he seemed very happy too.
On the winding road Thomas pointed out all sorts of places and waved or tooted at almost every person we passed by, he knew almost everyone! The road went winding around hills of lush forests. There were mango trees festooned with fruit and to be honest lots of trees that I couldn't recognise. Many of the houses were small wooden buildings and Thomas explained most of them had been built since the volcano had erupted in '95 when much of the island was evacuated and the capital city lost to the volcanic discharge.
We finally rolled up to Olveston House hidden quietly in the trees, but with a hubub of insect and frog songs which I had only previously experience via David Attenborough documentaries. I really hope
I get to see a tree frog.
I was met there by Margaret one of the two ladies who run the house as a B&B when Sir George isn't resident which is most of the year. She took me to a lovely air-conditioned room and went off to prepare some food for me. I realised I was really quite hungry as it had been a long time since the unidentifiable lunch on the plane.
We sat outside on the veranda - the Beatles Love album playing in the background accompanying the frog chorus (ha ha!) and chatted while I ate a deliciously cooked fish (I think it was plaice but being new to the whole fish eating thing I'm not too confident what it was) with baked potato and salad. Delicious. We talked about my plans for the week and apparently today I will be meeting the Governor of the Island who is coming to lunch. Other than that neither of us were quite sure what was in store. I have a list of names of people I will hopefully be meeting but no idea when or where. Another thing I need to work out is how I'll get
about. Bus or taxi I suppose.
Although there's still no sign of the sun today it is really hot and quite sticky - I'm glad of the air conditioning. Right, I think it might be time for breakfast...
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