It is, according to one resident of Stanley, the greatest single advance in the civilisation of the Falkland Islands since the 1982 conflict.

Twenty-five years ago, West Store, on the tiny capital’s sea-front, sold only an unappetising range of basics, including bottles of brown sauce. Now dozens of its lines, from biscuits to catfood, tinned prunes to wines, bear the magic name of Waitrose on the label.

David Lang is not being entirely facetious when he extols the virtues of a deal struck between West Store and the food retailer beloved of Middle England. It is a significant indication of how the islands have emerged from their isolation and decline to enjoy one of the highest standards of living in South America.

Another is the decision of Mr Lang, an English lawyer who recently retired after nearly 20 years as the islands’ attorney-general, to stay put with his wife, three grown-up daughters and three grandchildren.

“This is a great place to bring up children,” he says. “If they’re late back from school you don’t panic; you know they’ll be safe. You don’t have to ferry them to Brownies; they can walk everywhere. There is a low crime rate; I don’t ever recall a mugging, only drink-related crimes and the occasional burglary.”

The television set in the corner is another indicator. Twenty years ago many islanders had sets, but only for watching videos because there was no live service. Then an enterprising local, under cover of darkness, attached a £5 electronic gadget to the mast beaming the British Forces Broadcasting Service into the garrison, made aerials out of the backs of old fridges, and Falklands TV was born.

Now all of Stanley can watch EastEnders, Coronation Street, Jonathan Ross, BBC News 24, Six Nations rugby, Match of the Day, and, if they really must, Graham Norton.

Were it not for the treeless landscape, the never-ending wind and the 110 uncleared minefields, you might occasionally think that you were in present-day Britain as you sit feet-up with a can of Boddingtons watching Spurs v Chelsea.

Well, no, you wouldn’t. They don’t need a punitive fuel tax here; the Government of a country smaller than Wales with the population of a modest English village has £170 million in the bank. Which means that they don’t have to claw back the old folks’ state pension when they spend time in hospital.

Where we have our Poles, the Falklands have their St Helenans, manning every bar and doing the skivvy jobs. They speak English, come from another British Overseas Territory and therefore, like the islanders themselves, have since legislation in 1992 been full British citizens. It is a litmus of prosperity when you import an underclass, yet the St Helenans don’t see themselves as such; they are a proud and civil people who reckon that they are on to a nice little earner.

But in the South Atlantic, as anywhere else on Earth, paradise does not exist. Apart from the distantly simmering Argentine threat, the great drawback to living in the Falklands is getting out of them.

Islanders are dependent largely on the regular alcohol-free Ministry of Defence flights to RAF Brize Norton in Oxford-shire, for which they are charged a £1,500 return fare.

Wise islanders avoid it and fly by the weekly scheduled LanChile route from Mount Pleasant military airport, 35 miles from Stanley, to Punta Arenas in Chile, then to Santiago, Madrid and London.

Without easier access the Falklands has little chance of developing its tourist industry to broaden a precarious fisheries-dependent economic base. More tourism, the islands’ Government believes, could help to revive Camp (all the countryside outside Stanley) which, in sharp contrast to the capital, is in decline. Its population has halved since the end of the conflict, mirroring the drift to the big city so glaringly seen in Ireland, Mexico and elsewhere.

Camp survives only by subsidy – of its coastal supply ship, its internal air service, the 500 miles of new gravel roads that now link almost every remote farm, and of the popular wind turbines now giving farmsteads a more reliable and cheaper source of energy than old diesel generators.

Mr Aldridge stands outside what was once the largest sheep-shearing shed in the world, where in season Australian and New Zealand experts engage in the backbreaking toil of clipping some of the islands’ 600,000 sheep and sending their wool to Bradford.

“Wool prices have been uneconomic for years,” he says. “We’ve seen a slight improvement, but that’s only because the drought in Australia has killed so many of their sheep.”

Some things, however, do not change. The huge vine in the conservatory of Government House still drips grapes, and Sir Rex Hunt’s London taxi is still parked round the back, available for private hire when not needed for official transport. Sir Rex, who was Governor during the Argentine invasion, has long gone.

Sir Lawrence Freedman, the official historian of the Falklands conflict, reckons that rescuing the islands had cost the British taxpayer £3.8 billion by the time he stopped counting in 1986. The islanders, now self-sufficient, are for ever grateful, and they promise that if they ever find oil or gold in substantial quantities, they will start contributing to the cost of their own defence.

The characters

General Leopoldo Galtieri Ousted as Argentine President within three days of the surrender. Jailed for 12 years for military negligence, but pardoned. Died of heart failure in 2003
Rear-Admiral John “Sandy” Woodward Masterminded British campaign from HMS Hermes. Wrote a history of the confict, and appeared as TV pundit in Gulf War. Retired and lives in Sussex.
Simon Weston Welsh Guardsman who made remarkable recovery after suffering 46 per cent burns when Sir Galahad was bombed. Now runs charity for deprived children
Diana Gould Teacher who rattled Margaret Thatcher on TV by questioning her about the sinking of the Belgrano. She became chairwoman of the Belgrano Action Group. Now in her eighties, lives in Gloucestershire.

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