Other than a casual, unplanned stop this summer, I can’t remember the last time I went to Comino. Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate for me to say that I have a recollection of the last time I visited it, which I conveniently blocked out for a long time.

I remember that it was a stiflingly hot day and that we were taken there by a particularly disgruntled fisherman. As we approached our drop-off point, he told us not to be late back and cursed not-so-softly as he saw a swarm of people approaching him. We were left to make our way through the abandoned, wilting pineapple cocktails, confetti of plastic cups and mounds of writhing bodies. It was overcrowded, noisy and dirty. There was nothing pleasant or relaxing about being there.

When the angry fisherman eventually turned up in the late afternoon, we practically leapt back on to the boat and into his arms. A short stop this summer reminded me that, however bad things can appear, they can always get worse. I stayed on board the boat this time.

Last weekend, the war for Comino took yet another turn with activists returning to the small rock for the second time this summer in an attempt to free it from the grubby, greedy hands of yet more of the “ħallina ħa nagħmlu lira” or “allow us to make money” brigade. Instead of activists finding a free space in which to be able to protest as was pre-planned, the public space was yet again taken up by deckchairs, umbrellas and people allegedly sent over by the deckchair and umbrella operators to make things more difficult.

To top it all off, even support from the police doesn’t seem to have been forthcoming. It’s truly a sad state of affairs when not only do we have to fight to enjoy the little public space that we have left but, on top of that, we are being treated like the enemy for wanting to be able to enjoy what is rightfully ours.

I honestly don’t know what it’s going to take for us to wake up and rub the euro signs from our eyes- Anna Marie Galea

It’s a bitter pill to swallow but if ever there was a living metaphor for what is happening to Malta at large, you can see it replicated right in front of you in miniature on Comino. Beautiful, undisturbed land is grabbed, people clamour for space while simultaneously disrespecting the space and turning it into a rubbish dump, too few people care and are labelled extremists for daring to do so and, for reasons no one can ever fathom, the authorities always seem to end up supporting the wrong side.

There is no one alive or dead that will ever convince me that what is happening to Comino is not a disgusting exploitation of the little natural beauty we have left.

I honestly don’t know what it’s going to take for us to wake up and rub the euro signs from our eyes.

Then again, with the oncoming recession and our population’s daily struggle, which is even seeing our 16-year-olds having to extend their time at sixth form to four years to become premature breadwinners, this is probably not the time to urge people to put beauty before their bellies.

I guess if I want to enjoy an island, I’ll just have to take a leaf out of my politicians’ books and go abroad instead.