I’d like to show you but we’re making blood sausage in the back.”She carves a mountain of pork fillets, while continuing: “Two years ago, we went to Santo Domingo, then to Mexico It was fantastic We stayed in a private bungalow each time In Brazil, we stayed in a five-star hotel. I don’t know where we’ll go this year, but I’ll sign up anyway.”Her husband, Adalberto, emerges from the back of the butcher’s shop, wiping his arms “Those trips are the best part of the year,” he beams. “We go with all our friends, including the village doctor, so we have our own private doctor. My sons prefer the winter trips to Finland and Canada but give me the sun anytime.” He disappears again.Celina hands a packet of pork to a waiting customer: “This was a very poor village because we had nothing but air.

They had to bring in water in lorries and store it in underground cisterns There was a lot of poverty. If you were lucky enough to have land you could grow olives or cereals But this land .. you have to work it hard. And when the rains failed there was no harvest.”"I’ve only got one mill. I wish I had five or six,” says Teresa Andres, director of La Muela’s care home for the elderly, which the town hall opened five years ago.

“The wind park has benefited all of us by producing an economic boom in La Muela. We have grants for our children to study at university, a good library, a proper school, good teachers, all subsidised.”In the village bar, El Puerto (the Port), the walls are hung with oars and lifebelts – incongruously for this arid spot so far from the sea. Maricarmen Cuartero, 58, and her friend, Pilar Lopez, 75, order milky coffee and a chocolate-covered breakfast bar. Maricarmen has no land and no windmills, but she enjoys their benefits.