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Nearly fifteen years on from the disastrous Soufrière Hills Volcano eruption, David Whitley visits Montserrat to find a relaxed and hopeful population, stunning scenery and a lot of stories.

“Hey Dave,” says the owner of the guest house, sticking his head round the corner as the sun starts to set. “We’re heading into town – do you want a lift anywhere?”

I only make it as far as the blue shack at the top of the hill. It's 'People's Place', the spot where I spent the previous evening getting progressively more pickled with a couple of foreign office workers and a group of Rastafarians playing dominos. “Hey Dave,” calls out John, the barman. “You thirsty?” I’ve been on the island for just over 24 hours, and I’m officially one of the locals.

This humble bar sums up the Montserrat vibe perfectly. It attracts the most diverse clientele you’re ever likely to see; a sample cast includes islanders that moved to the UK returning home to catch up with friends and family, the island’s attorney general and Rooster the would-be Hot Sauce magnate. Drivers on their way home stop by to get a pizza, a round system quickly develops and earnest proclamations about going to church tomorrow, irrespective of hangover, are taken with an increasingly large pinch of salt.

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