CIRCA summer 1973 I was skimming across the turquoise waters of the Bahamas in a Boston Whaler when green flying fish began leaping out of the sea alongside my boat.
By skilful use of their fins, and a wriggling motion with their bodies, they managed to maintain quite a ‘flight’ before plunging back beneath the waves.
It was the year the Bahamas gained its independence from Britain, and I recall saying to my companion: ‘Britain must be crazy to be letting go of a place like this.’
In fact, for staggering beauty, there are few places in the world to match the Exuma chain of islets in the Bahamas, where this expertence took place.
I have never forgotten it, so when I began composing a small collage the other day, my thoughts turned back forty-six years to that magical day when my Whaler was surrounded by the inquisitive, airborne shoal.
The picture is called Flying Fish in the Exumas.