Paradise Enow

When a long-dormant volcano spewed molten rock over their windswept Atlantic island in October 1961, the 260 inhabitants of Tristan da Cunha were rescued and brought to never-had-it-so-good Britain. Last week, after a year's exposure to the packaged joys of the affluent society, the hardy, forthright islanders decided that they had never had it so bad. In a secret ballot to decide whether or not they should return to a primitive, precarious existence on their isolated island, adult Tristan islanders voted overwhelmingly, 148 to 5, to return home.

They would have little to go back to. An advance party that returned to Tristan last August reported that the volcano had ruined most of their houses, killed all their sheep, and destroyed the fish-freezing plant where many earned their living. But there were still fish in the sea, enough land for their potato crop, and green grass for the cattle. The exiles could hardly wait to leave. For though they had found good jobs and a warm reception in "h'England," most islanders --who are descended from sailors shipwrecked on the island in the 19th century --just could not cope with progress. Said one: "When you don't want to get up in the morning back home, you just stay in bed." Added 30-year-old Basil Lavarello: "TV nearly sends us mad. Cars, buses and trains roar like thunder through our brains. Way back in Tristan, a man can come to grips with his soul and his Creator."

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