I AM sorry to have reneged on my promise to send you my column fromSt. Barth's last week. But due to technical matters beyond my control it was not possible to transmit it across the turquoise, balmy seas of the Caribbean. I shall try and make up for it this week by giving you a detailed account of my trip to St. Barth's which, in all honestly, I can say was probably the best vacation time I've ever had in my life.

My brother always tells me that I am given to hyperbole but in this instance he is wrong. I have just visited paradise on earth and there could never be any dispute in this proclamation and no hyperbole would ever be needed.

St. Barth's, for those of you who have never been there, is a hidden jewel in the French West Indies nestled in between St. Maarten, Anguilla and Saba. It is very French, extremely chic but laid back at the same time and makes the Riviera pale in significance.

Getting there however is another story.

Once you have done all the various stopovers and encountered many delays on the way you arrive in St. Maarten, which door to door takes about 12 hours.

You think that your journey is just about at an end as all you have to do now is take an eight-seater plane over to St. Barth's ? journey time 15 minutes.

Oh my God!

I had been warned that this was to be quite an experience, but nothing prepared me for what was probably the most terrifying ordeal of a lifetime! Had I had enough time in between plane changes I would definitely have had a very large martini in preparation for what was to come. In hindsight I don't think that any amount of cocktails or Valium (or both) would have been enough to placate my nerves for this particular flight.

It wasn't the actual flight that was the problem though; it is the landing that convinces you that you only probably have a few seconds left on this earth.

The airport is located directly below a mountain ridge, you clear the top of the cliffs by what looks like inches and then do a complete nose-dive onto the runway, which used to be a goat pasture and is only 2000 feet long.

This near death experience would without a doubt remedy anyone with acute or chronic constipation problems (no wonder on the return journey some very forward thinking woman in her late 80s was handing around a very large bottle of Bourbon for all the passengers to take swigs from; even though it was only 7 a.m. everyone partook).

It didn't help matters either when I spied a very large cross complete with Jesus and disciples on the cliff top just as we started our nose-dive! This whole experience will now go to the top of my list of traumatic events incurred in my lifetime. However I can honestly say that it was worth it all just to spend eight days on this glorious island.

Next time I shall just remember to self-medicate before embarkation. Also it must be said that on this particular day the winds were extremely high and the airport was shut the following day leaving half the wedding party stranded in St. Maarten.

I was met by Penny and Tom (the bride and bridegroom whose wedding I was attending) and my great friend from London, Sally, who is Penny's sister.

After a much-needed glass of delicious French Chardonnay we jumped into our rented Jeep (the only way to travel) and reconvened at La Marine (a delightful waterfront eatery) in the port and capital of Gustavia.

Gustavia is the coolest, funkiest little town imaginable. Wonderful brightly coloured bars and restaurants, local art galleries, fabulous boutiques as well as the likes of Chanel and Gucci line the streets with sailing vessels to match the sartorial elegance of the shops moored in the marina.

What is equally wonderful is that there is not a pickpocket in sight as crime is virtually non-existent and the only time that I saw a policeman was in a bar enjoying a beverage with the patron.

My first dining experience in St. Barth's at the Marina was just a taste of what was to come.

I knew that after the first bite of my Creole crab cake that I was in for some major culinary treats considering that this was a somewhat low scale (in comparison to the rest) restaurant.

We were all so knackered by the end of dinner that we wended our way back to the villa that Penny had rented for us, all in total darkness.

By this stage of the game I was totally oblivious to the fact that the treachery of these roads have to be seen in daylight to be believed. They are narrow with small winding bends, climbing up mountainous trails and then dropping down just as suddenly, making all of the views spectacular but hugely dangerous as one wrong move and you are over the side (no hospitals on the island).

There did also seem to be an inordinate amount of graveyards on the island making one wonder whether their occupants had either met their fate in the plane from St .Maarten or had toppled over the edge of a cliff in a Suzuki jeep after one too many vanilla rums.

When I awoke the following morning I was just completely blown away by where I was staying. The Biddles house was quaint, fabulous and with a panoramic view to die for. The flora leading down to the beach was breathtaking.

It was very rugged land with giant cacti everywhere interspersed with the most gorgeous bougainvillea in every vivid colour imaginable as well as oleander and hibiscus. Sally and I just sat there with our coffee for hours with the early morning sun beating down on us, the trade winds blowing a gale and convinced that this was heaven on earth.

After having to endure months of cold, windy, rainy weather and with lily-white bodies we decided that it was time to hit the beach. It was a difficult decision as there are apparently 22 to choose from.

Needless to say that, unbeknownst to us, the one that we ultimately chose was the nudist beach. What an eye opener that was! From the looks of it I definitely seem to have missed out somewhere along the line! I felt like some kind of perverse Peeping Tom. But, honestly, you can't stop yourself from looking unless you had a blindfold on ? and I certainly wasn't going to do that; everyone might have got the wrong impression!

As lunchtime approached we decided to go and try out Nikki Beach, which is the latest restaurant to open on the island. We had heard it was very cool and very trendy. It was all of that and more.

They have beds (actual four-posters) on the beach, a sushi bar on the sand, wonderful music playing and terrific eclectic food. This island just kept getting better and better by the second.

Most days were spent more or less the same. Balcony to beach to restaurant to shop to shop to shop to bar to another restaurant to another bar and finally to bed. What an arduous time we were having.

On one particular evening Sally had overdone it on the Passion Fruit rum and I was woken the next morning by her screaming in the bathroom. I

rushed out to see what the matter was and saw her being violently ill over the sink. I imagined that this was due to the fact that she had been over served the previous evening but this was not the case.

She had been brushing her teeth but instead of using toothpaste she had inadvertently used Preparation H as the two tubes had been lying side by side.

In her comatose state she hadn't realised this until a rather large amount had trickled down her throat and the taste, she said, was just like something that is too disgusting to mention in this"'family" column!

The wedding itself was about as romantic as it gets. The service was in the tiny Anglican Church nestled in the back streets of Gustavia. It was a glorious service with a little reception afterwards outside the Church amongst the palm trees and bougainvillea.

We quaffed Champagne in the sunset and munched on gorgeous hors d'oeuvres prepared by Maya the foremost caterer and restaurateur on the island. Rushed home for a quick change and then onto Maya's restaurant for the most wonderful dinner ever possible. Maya's food is Asian, French and Creole, all terribly light and innovative and served in the most beautiful surroundings just a stones throw from the beach. It was such a joyous occasion particularly as Penny had lost her first husband about two years ago and never thought that she would find happiness again. She has certainly found it with Tom who is the most delightful, kind, funny man that you could ever wish to meet. My time on the island whisked by in a flash as it always does when you are having the time of your life. I wish that I had space to tell you about the Catamaran trip that we went on which was like something out of but that will have to wait for another time.

All I can say is that ? God willing! ? nothing and I mean nothing will stop me from returning next year. There are still so many more bars and restaurants that I haven't had the time to frequent and, of course, one or two little boutiques and yet another beach and so it goes on. I wish that I could write another page but all I have room for is one small recipe so here you go.

1 sheet frozen puff pastry, 3 medium Golden Delicious apples, peeled, cored and cut very thin, 1/4 stick unsalted butter, melted, 3 tablespoons sugar mixed with 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, 1/4 cup apricot jam, melted

Preheat oven to 400F. Line baking sheets with parchment paper. Unfold pastry on parchment paper and using tines of a fork pierce 1/2-inch border around edges of pastry and then prick all over. Arrange apples in 4 overlapping rows leaving the border clear. Brush with melted butter and sprinkle over the sugar. Bake 30 minutes, brush with the melted jam and return to oven for 8 minutes longer. Serve warm or at room temperature.