While these types of encounters are frequent, in my opinion, they do not offer the same satisfaction as a day spent wandering from shop to shop, swiping that little plastic card on your own terms. There is also the added bonus of returning home with more than a few muddy golf balls and a coconut. This is why, when an opportunity presents itself to swap this isolation and shop deprivation for civilisation, and a chance to stock up on supplies – you just don’t turn it down. For anyone thinking that being able to duck across to Bali at short notice sounds ideal, let me just clarify, it wasn’t all fun. My travelling companions included three small children. Now I know that some people are inclined to put small children in the ‘fun’ category, but as you might have already deduced by the absence of children in my life – I am not one of those people. In fact, spending a few days with three of these dependent little beings may have sent my ovaries into further hiding, unwilling to be involved in the bringing of one of these beings into existence.

There were in-taxi nappy changes that I feel sure would have restored an anosmiac’s sense of smell. Then there was those tiny bladders that brought me to the realisation that instead of going from shop to shop as planned, we were in fact spending our days going from toilet to toilet. There were in-restaurant meltdowns that had me wondering whether disappearing under the tablecloth would be an appropriate course of action. I believe I uttered the phrase ‘hold my hand’ more times in those three days of shopping than I have in all the years I’ve had a man in my life.

The excruciatingly slow pace at which we were able to tick things off of our shopping list meant that every night, we found ourselves each carrying a child who was as responsive (and as heavy) as a sack full of potatoes through the crowded streets of Seminyak. We received many accusing stares from strangers, so obviously mistaking us for irresponsible nightlife lovers who were incapable of organising a babysitter. Unable to explain in an equally expressive glance that we were in fact shop deprived island inhabitants who had just spent the day navigating Bali with three children in tow in an effort to ensure a future supply of bin liners, nappies and ziplock bags, we had no option but to avoid all eye contact. It turns out that when it comes to sustaining liveable conditions on a remote island, your priorities change. When I’m shopping now, I no longer fill my suitcase with clothes and shoes as I would have in the days before our relocation to a remote island. I now find that a greater percentage of the contents of my jungle bound baggage is edible. Even in the minutes before we were supposed to get into the taxi back to the airport, I found myself run-walking down the deserted streets of Seminyak at 7am in search of some lettuce, a head of broccoli and a fresh loaf of bread. A little further along our return journey, in Lombok – I added a bunch of parsley to my handbag, along with a cold water bottle to keep it fresh. Let’s just say I’m now accustomed to strange looks as my bags pass through x-ray machines during my travels.