We have no need of money on Raoul Island. No-one here carries a wallet or a cellphone. Our requirements are pretty simple and we have a marvellous facility that is designed specifically to cater for them – Arkwrights.
Fans of the golden age of British TV will remember Ronnie Barker’s classic comedy, the one in which he lives in fear of the savage till in his grocer’s shop and spends much of his life dreaming about Nurse Gladys from across the road. His character was the original Arkwright.
If it's your night to cook or you want a snack of any kind all that is required is a quick trip to the building behind the hostel. It’s stacked to the roof with a year’s supply of food.
The only drawback to all this is that sometimes this delicious fare gets a little past its use-by date.
Gaye and I have recently spent a few hours in this mighty establishment, completing the annual stocktake. We were under instructions to "be ruthless," so previous inhabitants of the island may be disappointed to read that the cans of nutmeat that arrived nine years ago have now gone, that shipment of canned food that fell in to the sea has been disposed of (they rusted out) and there is no longer an opportunity to enter the competition advertised on the Banana Nesquik containers, the one that closed last century.