She was thinking about birds and the meaning they give to our lives.The British are bonkers about birds! And, then she remembered the incredible birds that inhabit the Gambia in West Africa. She remembers being rowed down a tributary of the River Gambia called the Lamin Stream to visit an ecological centre. The twists of woody lianas trailing from the banks of the lush mangroves have formed an unbelievably green corridor. The sun was a fiery beacon beating down directly overhead and bouncing off the water. And there, in the boat, she was told something about that she cannot  not fully comprehend..

Everything was present in that moment and her heartbeat is rapid in the midday heat. Her guide pulls on the oars and she faces him in a heightened state. “You will write two books,” he said. She can hardly believe him when she doubts  she will even make it out of his boat. But they arrive at the lodge intact, and pondering his words in the incomparable natural scenery, she resents the Gambian government’s policy of not allowing tourist cameras into the country.

The hotel's high walled garden is alive with birds, brighter and smaller versions of our garden varieties. There are African Rollers of differing hues of greens and blues, and one has a lilac chest and yellow pectorals (Coracias caudata), Sunbirds and Little Bee Eaters with curved beaks to eat insects are darting about. The people of the Gambia are beautiful sunbirds waiting for change. And, to her mind, cambio, the Latin word for change encapsulates the Gambia.

Hooded vultures that pick over the mountainous rubbish dumps all over the island roost in the ubiquitous palm trees and seem to her to be baleful omens. So, she exercises hard on her hotel balcony to change her mood, making brisk movements,  and after smoking a cigarette struggles to breathe.

After days of adjustment and fear, a guide offer to take a little party of travellers to a nearby village to see how the locals live. The sand roads are carnelian red and children gather around stand-pipes at intersections laughing and playing with the sparkling water. The better-off folks live in rows of high-gated compounds set in lush gardens, barking dogs restlessly patrol inside the barbed wire perimeters. The travellewrs are invited into a compound for a cup of refreshing local tea. The men smoke home-grown grass rolled up in a fat cardboard tube, costing just a few Dalasi - the currency of the Gambia.

When the sun became too hot she withdraws to a shady day bed in a hut to chat with an erstwhile lover. They had travelled with a few other friends from London to Gambia's capital Banjul, but drifted apart after a couple of days. Her to a hotel, and he to one of the compounds. His forehead, feet and ankles are covered in mosquito bites. She worries for him, he hasn’t taken any anti-malarial pills. It becomes harder to breathe when he says he slept with a ‘prostitute’ in the intervening time. Some poor girl desperate for money, desperate for change. She never sleeps with him again.

She meets another English man. The build-up before his arrival in Banjul is palpable, and she ignores the attention of other potential suitors. And, when he arrives, they are bonded by a Nortyh London vibe. They visit Serekunda, a sprawling market town, squeezing into a communal taxi going there. On the streeta the tall, slender Gambians glide in colourful costumes, graceful and lithe as if in meditation. These calm, angelic presences with helping hands contrast with the red-faced ex-pats gripping endless pints of beers in sea front bars dotted along the Atlantic.

In the market, buys a knife, which simultaneously frightens and thrills her. She buys a small wooden drum, the base of its skin entwined with red and yellow ribbons. She chooses carefully, after proficiently patting a dozen or so other drums, to the amusement of the stallholders.

On the coach to Banjul Airport the British tourists are twittering like birds.They are relaxed and happy despite the terrible poverty outside the windows. She's uncomfortable and hungover from palm wine. The plane is delayed, but not before being checked for cameras again. She abandons her purchases from the street markets and prays the flight will take off. Her only momento is the little drum, which she had tethered to her lover's drum all along.