The checkout girl in the small supermarket dutifully keeps all the fresh bread stashed under the till for the locals, refusing to sell any to us although it's our second winter here, which Carita, naturally, had an argument with her about. Hence, we now have no chance of joining that elite club, instead, destined to eat stale bread (on the days we're lucky enough to get that) for the rest of our duration here. Much of the other produce tends to be well out of date, often by months, and hugely overpriced as there's nowhere else you can go.

But the best part is that there's a huge poster just next to the boat that says, 'Fomentera Loves Tourists!'