On St. Lucia

Towards the end of my career as a cameraman, when I was getting pretty fed up with

one-man crewing and contemplating a change of career, I got a phone call one night from a

favourite client who I was sure was winding me up. Three weeks in the West Indies,

filming bananas. A week later we were there, based on St Lucia and staying in a corporate

apartment overlooking the capital, Castries. It became one of the highlights of my career,

even though I was still effectively a one-man crew (the rest of the team consisted of

director, producer and - unusually - writer, all of whom helped out with my role when

necessary). The story was the plight of the small crop growers trying to stay in business

(virtually subsistence living) when the big banana exporters wanted a monopoly on European

imports. We island-hopped a bit, interviewing local farmers, settled into a routine of dinner

at beach-side restaurants and watching the sun go down over the Caribbean. We took a

day off for my birthday, sailing up the coast in a preserved wind-jammer with free booze

and a steel-drum band (I don't remember much about it, really) and didn't want to come

home.

But within six months, I'd closed up shop and become an IT network engineer in the NHS,

earning a regular salary for once. After 25 years, my time was up, and I miss it to this day.

Towards the end of my career as a cameraman, when I was getting pretty fed up with

one-man crewing and contemplating a change of career, I got a phone call one night from a

favourite client who I was sure was winding me up. Three weeks in the West Indies, filming

bananas. A week later we were there, based on St Lucia and staying in a corporate apartment

overlooking the capital, Castries. It became one of the highlights of my career, even though I

was still effectively a one-man crew (the rest of the team consisted of director, producer and -

unusually - writer, all of whom helped out with my role when necessary). The story was the

plight of the small crop growers trying to stay in business (virtually subsistence living) when the

big banana exporters wanted a monopoly on European imports. We island-hopped a bit,

interviewing local farmers, settled into a routine of dinner at beach-side restaurants and watching

the sun go down over the Caribbean. We took a day off for my birthday, sailing up the coast

in a preserved wind-jammer with free booze and a steel-drum band (I don't remember much

about it, really) and didn't want to come home.

But within six months, I'd closed up shop and become an IT network engineer in the NHS,

earning a regular salary for once. After 25 years, my time was up, and I miss it to this day.

On St Lucia