AT SOME point, hopefully very soon, a journalist and an air enthusiast will meet in York's Bar 38, and have a very long and fruitful pint of beer.

They will talk of prisons in Greece, of frightful justice systems, and of a nerve-racking ordeal which the enthusiast is never likely to forget. The "plane spotter" is York's Andy Jenkins, and the journalist is me, who spent two weeks in pursuit of him in Greece.

Dispatched by the Evening Press to report at first hand on Andy's plight, as he faces espionage charges for looking at warplanes, I have also become something of an expert on Andy Jenkins himself.

I've only met him twice, but I know the man quite well: where he likes to drink, what got him into military aircraft, even the fact that an improvised version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? keeps him busy in prison.

The pursuit of Andy, while not really deserving comparison with Stanley's exploits in locating Dr Livingstone, was a pretty awesome experience. It began in Athens, 14 nights ago.

The Greek capital lacks the cool chic of Rome; the streets are a car park, with the city's two million homicidal motorists honking and yelling their contempt for each other from dusk 'til dawn. Acid rain is eating the Parthenon. None of the lifts have inner doors.

And yet this city was the cradle of civilisation. Whatever the chaotic state of the streets, the sheer, incomprehensible brilliance of the Acropolis and the Temple of Olympian Zeus always provide sanctuary.

The Olympic Games return to Athens - finally - in 2004, and the T-shirts are on sale now. But the Athenians' jubilation at winning back the games has given way to a sobering realisation that the city is almost certainly unable to cope with them. A spanking new airport and swish metro system help, but the runners will probably find it easier to hoof it to the starting blocks.

None of this matters much to Andy's defence lawyer, Ioannis Zacharias.

"Is nice city, no?" he asks, as he gestures at the view from the mammoth window which is the centrepiece of his penthouse office on the city's corporate hub, Syngrou Avenue.

Well, it's all right, Ioannis, I replied. As long as you're up here.

British consul Donald Holder likes the city, too. He also has a nice perch, in the diplomatic locale of Kolonaki.

The journey to Nafplion, where Andy is being held, takes a shade over two hours by bus, crossing the magnificent Corinth Canal.

Nafplion itself is a bright and breezy summer resort. Unfortunately, I arrived in November. Those cafes and shops that weren't already closed were barely open, and packed with the Greek equivalent of Kiss Me Quick hats.

The jail sits three miles outside town. Talking to guards and visiting relatives, and doing an awful lot of standing around, I tried to picture Andy, on the other side of the wall. Visions of the boiled vegetable slop that is Greek prison nosh drifted eerily to mind - solidarity, brother.

My other base was Kalamata, where the group was originally arrested, and where three provincial judges now hold sway over their fate.

Kalamata became the focus of a media circus on the day of the group's second hearing, when, we were led to believe, we would see a release. There wasn't; the nightmare went on.

The British press occupied the first floor of the monolithic, ugly court building, which contrived to look like it had been designed by a rabbit with diseased imaginings.

It was here that I first met Andy. He was chirpily defiant, shouting his innocence through the corridors, before asking me: "All right, mate? How'd York City do on Saturday?"

Not quite "Dr Livingstone, I presume", but heartfelt.

Andy's friend, Adrian Hairsine, said: "It has gone beyond being a joke, beyond being serious. It is now in the realms of the ludicrous."

But Andy is a tough cookie, and he is sticking it out. He is also a tower of strength for some of the less self-assured members of the group. He's a credit to his family, and to the city of York.

When he comes home, and I fervently hope that is very soon, the city should welcome him with open arms. And buy him a beer.

Updated: 11:36 Saturday, December 08, 2001