A number of things pushed me on to write this blog this morning, but most probably it involves the young guy I nearly ran down with my car today. Granted it was still around 7am, and quite dark too, but that is no excuse...or is it?
This particular young man, after hollering outside my car windscreen, jumped back on his bicycle-converted-to-motorcycle contraption, and spluttered off, leaving me and a goodly number of onlookers gaping at him.
Looking at his receding back, I could see that he had no lights, no fluorescent vest, and worst of all, a black jacket. Ah. That is why I didn't see him then. The fact that he had no safety helmet on, I think, did not occur to him at all.
So, in a roundabout way, I am coming to the point of what I want to say. The government says there are way too many cars on the road. And I agree. So that is why we are seeing a proliferation of these death-traps on the road.
Buy a cheap bicycle, import an engine from ebay for a mere hundred euros, bolt it on the frame...and there you go. A registration fee of five malta liri, and you're good to go!
What the heck is wrong with this country? I have a little 50cc Gilera motorbike for which I have to pay MY drivers license and the bike's road-tax and insurance. Not to mention the dreaded VRT.
How can this be?
Let's compare the two items in question. Both machines have 2 wheels. Both have a frame, and a saddle, and err...brakes....but wait, wait.
Let's REALLY compare them.
The converted bicycle has two thin tyres very prone to bursting at high speeds, as well as a thin uncomfortable saddle bolted onto a narrow aluminium frame that is not meant to handle high speeds. Braking, as one can imagine, is an absolute joke. Try stopping a bicycle going at seventy kilometres an hour on two little rubber blocks! Safety is nothing short of hilarious. These drivers are not asked to wear a helmet. Or God forbid, have front and rear lights.
On the other hand my little Gilera has two thick high-speed capable tyres, a comfortably padded seat with storage space beneath it. The frame is welded in a number of places to ensure safety. Powerful shock absorbers amortize the disc-braking system and a nice little windscreen deflects the wind comfortably away from my helmet-protected head. Powerful lights at the front and back make a good job of advising other commuters on the road that a motorbike is approaching.
So, really, there is no comparison is there? My bike is far more safe on the road...both to me and to others.
So can anyone tell me why the heck I have to fork out ALL that money to keep what is essentially a bicycle with wheels on the road? While the other guy pays nothing for using the same road, albeit with dangerous equipment.
I sincerely propose that for motorcycles up to 100 cubic centimetres, one simply pays a one-time registration tax...and that's it.
I can guarantee that up to a fifth of cars will disappear from the Maltese roads, especially in spring and summer. And why not. Mopeds are easy to drive and cheap to run. They use clean, efficient, unleaded fuel, cause less hassle on the road and are a doddle to park. Buying a moped doesn't necessitate breaking the bank with a loan. Being fun to drive is an added bonus.
So if the government really wants to do something (which I doubt), my advice would be to liberalise the sub-100cc motorcycle market.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
So Cold....and so dispirited.
It's eight in the morning, I am already at work, but earning my way through the day couldn't be further from my mind than it already is. The air-conditioning unit is on, struggling to keep the place warm, and mostly managing...but I feel so cold. Colder than I have felt for some time now.
I should be a bit happy in the knowledge that at least it's Friday today, and a weekend is stretching in front of us all. But no, I will probably be here in for work tomorrow. At least it will be quiet and I will be able to earn some extra wages as well. In all probability I will miss another 'Thorn' rehearsal, but at the moment, the band seems to be going through a sticky patch, and there is not much to rehearse for. So what is the point of continuing at all?
Sure I enjoy playing live and all that, but the occasions have become so few and far in between that I wonder why I bother at all. Last Tuesday was another damp squib, managing to play a couple of songs in all, but generally listening to everybody grumble and moan. Me, I just kept my mouth shut. And I missed a great football match between Brazil and Italy. No. Definitely not worth it then.
We seem to have lost that spark so cruelly taken away just as we seemed to be regaining our popularity, when Clive (drums) called it quits, and even though his replacement is more than up to the task, Clive brought with him a certain flair. Then Jade's retirement and consequent passing away was another nail in the coffin, so to speak. We badly need a synth to complement our songs.
So where do we stand? I don't know actually. Part of me wants to keep on playing with the band, learning more as time goes by, or simply give it all up and concentrate on the other band, primarily a Christian Rock and Gospel type, which seems to attract people who are more than happy to hear us play. I thought it would be just because of our service during mass on Sunday at ten, but no. We have experimented with a couple of 'short shows' at odd times, especially on Sunday evenings, and people still come to hear us. Hmm. Seems like there is a goodly amount of people who are content listening to the diversity of songs we play. Some have even asked us for recordings.
All these thoughts could probably be just musings coming from the fact that with this damp weather my arthritis is driving me round the bend with pain and fatigue. No matter how long I sleep or how much I dress up, the ever-pervading damp is still there to suck on my bones, my strength and my will to move a muscle.
And God...how I miss the sun. How I miss that great big yellow ball of relief from the blasted damp. And of coures, I miss summer, with its' dips in the cool sea, and the relaxing evening nights on the roof, having a beer with my friends and my brothers.
Yes, I can't wait until this bloody season is over.
I should be a bit happy in the knowledge that at least it's Friday today, and a weekend is stretching in front of us all. But no, I will probably be here in for work tomorrow. At least it will be quiet and I will be able to earn some extra wages as well. In all probability I will miss another 'Thorn' rehearsal, but at the moment, the band seems to be going through a sticky patch, and there is not much to rehearse for. So what is the point of continuing at all?
Sure I enjoy playing live and all that, but the occasions have become so few and far in between that I wonder why I bother at all. Last Tuesday was another damp squib, managing to play a couple of songs in all, but generally listening to everybody grumble and moan. Me, I just kept my mouth shut. And I missed a great football match between Brazil and Italy. No. Definitely not worth it then.
We seem to have lost that spark so cruelly taken away just as we seemed to be regaining our popularity, when Clive (drums) called it quits, and even though his replacement is more than up to the task, Clive brought with him a certain flair. Then Jade's retirement and consequent passing away was another nail in the coffin, so to speak. We badly need a synth to complement our songs.
So where do we stand? I don't know actually. Part of me wants to keep on playing with the band, learning more as time goes by, or simply give it all up and concentrate on the other band, primarily a Christian Rock and Gospel type, which seems to attract people who are more than happy to hear us play. I thought it would be just because of our service during mass on Sunday at ten, but no. We have experimented with a couple of 'short shows' at odd times, especially on Sunday evenings, and people still come to hear us. Hmm. Seems like there is a goodly amount of people who are content listening to the diversity of songs we play. Some have even asked us for recordings.
All these thoughts could probably be just musings coming from the fact that with this damp weather my arthritis is driving me round the bend with pain and fatigue. No matter how long I sleep or how much I dress up, the ever-pervading damp is still there to suck on my bones, my strength and my will to move a muscle.
And God...how I miss the sun. How I miss that great big yellow ball of relief from the blasted damp. And of coures, I miss summer, with its' dips in the cool sea, and the relaxing evening nights on the roof, having a beer with my friends and my brothers.
Yes, I can't wait until this bloody season is over.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
What a load of cobblers.
While we were on our weekend break at Selmun, it just happened that there was the Eurovision Song for Malta festival. While I am not a fan of soppy songs and all the corruption that comes with this travesty of music, my kids and wife usually like to watch it.
So it was no bother to me to have a lie-down in bed and actually watch events as they unfolded. And I have some comments to make. Timed at nearly four and a half hours, the competition was way too long. The adverts made up for half that time. Is that legal at all? I thought there was a legal limit as to the proportion.
The presenters? God almighty, I've seen wooden spoons that were far more animated than those two on stage.
And the songs? I could pick a handful that were above average, but only just. The winning song wasn't a song at all. Chiara tried to use her voice to carry her to victory, which she did. I tried listening to it, honestly, but I have rarely heard such a tuneless song. I dare anyone to try and whistle or hum the tune to it. You can't...there simply is none!
And finally, here is a pic of me and the wife watching the contest and occasionally falling to sleep.
All in another year's funny Eurovision. I am accepting bets that we won't make it past the semi-finals.
So it was no bother to me to have a lie-down in bed and actually watch events as they unfolded. And I have some comments to make. Timed at nearly four and a half hours, the competition was way too long. The adverts made up for half that time. Is that legal at all? I thought there was a legal limit as to the proportion.
The presenters? God almighty, I've seen wooden spoons that were far more animated than those two on stage.
And the songs? I could pick a handful that were above average, but only just. The winning song wasn't a song at all. Chiara tried to use her voice to carry her to victory, which she did. I tried listening to it, honestly, but I have rarely heard such a tuneless song. I dare anyone to try and whistle or hum the tune to it. You can't...there simply is none!
And finally, here is a pic of me and the wife watching the contest and occasionally falling to sleep.
All in another year's funny Eurovision. I am accepting bets that we won't make it past the semi-finals.Sunday, January 11, 2009
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Doctors, butterflies and dreams.
It has been some time since I wrote something on my blog, and to be honest, I should be completely ashamed of myself. Here I am, an aspiring writer (without much hope) neglecting his homework. But for a diverse number of reasons, I have to confess to my sins with a number of, not really excuses, but happenings in these two months that have shaken my foundations.
A lot of things have happened as I already mentioned, but most importantly and sadly, has been the unexpected passing away of two dear friends. Two friends whom I never ever imagined that I would outlive, let alone look back in fondness on.
The first was the stroke that Dr.Karl Chirchop suffered. It was an incapacitating blow that struck this young gentle person. Now, politics has nothing to do with this since me and Karl go a little while back along the years. Many people know KC through his political work, but I wasn't one of them. Karl was actually our family GP, a Liverpool fan, and a hoot to talk to. The fact that I am on the opposite side of his political stands only spurred us to greater debates and thoughts. Karl passed away a month after his stroke, and his death left a great emptiness in my heart.
At his funeral service, I could see how much this man meant to so many people. Too young to go at only 42. KC, you are already sorely missed.
The second death, and one that struck so close to home was the passing away of our erstwhile feisty pianist Jade Brincat. Dying at twenty-one of a heart-attack is almost unheard of. Dying at twenty-one of an attack brought about by a simple anti-biotic is even more horrific. Jade had a history of heart palpitations not too many people knew about. The antibiotic which she took for a chest infection struck her just as she suffered one of her palpitations, resulting in a swift death.
The news came through at work. A mate of mine poked his head round my office door and said... "I don't want to alarm you or anything, but word is going around the factory that Jade died."
I remember looking up and saying that it probably was her grandmother who had been in hospital for some time.
Sandro replied that he had already heard that and that it was being denied. I recall leaping off my chair and going off to find Ruby-Ann who works with us at Gavazzi. I saw Glenn and Ruby down near the reception area, and at that moment my legs fell out from beneath me. A sense of bewilderness spread over me and all I could hear was the buzzing of the girls who were shocked at the news.
Needless to say, a lot of thoughts were being spoken out loud...being a rocker, a goth, ah, you know...rockers these days. I was so angry at those words.
I went down to Glenn and Ruby who confirmed my worst fears. the attack had taken her life swiftly and her parents had only a few seconds to reach out to their daughter.
It seems that Jade died in the ambulance on the way to hospital.
I cannot describe my grief. No words can ever hope to convery my despair at this friend's passing.
I cried and cried all through the following week...messages flooded my phone and my mailbox, as well as Stillborn's website. I felt this death so much... so so much. I used to pick up Jade on the way to the band, take her back home, meet up in church on Sunday evenings, pick her up on the way to work, and generally have a largely good time with loads of laughter punctuating the air. Jade was such a funny, lovable little person, and to this day I cannot fathom out why I felt her passing so much. She was much like the little sister I never had. My kids spent every last tear they had. They loved her with a passion.
Needless to say, the funeral service was chock-full, with practically every worker from Gavazzi attending, as well as the huge number of rockers that packed the parish church at Paola. It was so emotional and moving. I have never seen Raphael so distraught either, as we wept for our fallen friend.
Even now as I write, I am looking at her picture and feel the sorrow coming on again...
About a week after her funeral, I was still downcast and sad.
Until I had the dream.
I dreamt I was with my wife at hospital, walking along, when who should I see but Jade? She was wearing one of her usual black outfits, and she bade me to follow her. She went into a room, which promptly started to glow with an unearthly bright light, and Jade returned to us wearing an all-white smock with gilted edges, glowing bright yellow. At that point she hugged me and kissed me on the cheeks, telling me, 'Do you believe?'... We walked together to the exit, and in my disbelief asked her if she could, like, float...she smiled and hovered above the floor for a few seconds, before settling down with a giggle. I could only stare at her for a few moments. Jade started walking out of the door, and I can recall exactly that the sensor did not catch her presence, and she went on straight through the glass plate as if it wasn't even there. I think it was at that precise moment that I realised what she was trying to show me.
Out of the door I went with my wife. Jade turned to us and said. 'I guess this is goodbye until we meet again. Yes, until we meet again.'
At that point she spread her wings, held out her hands and rose up until she vanished from our view. An angel reaching out to the heaven that she so believed in...yes I believed.
Immediately I woke up, with a new feeling in my heart. Yes, Jade, our little butterfly had gone, no longer gracing us with her music, her mad giggle, her funny clothes and warm soul...but she would always be in our hearts and minds. Until we meet again.
I could already imagine her creating chaos in heaven as she tries to get the angels to try out nose-rings or black lip-stick! Not to mention playing Heavy Metal for them!
This was on a Saturday, and I had to talk to somebody about it. Well, what are friends for after all? I called a young priest friend of mine, who said that he had no doubt that she had talked to me through a dream. He was absolutely sure that she had reached our God in heaven, and He had sent a message to me to rest my grieving heart. Although I supposed he was right, I could hardly believe it.
Until the next day, when something extraordinary happened that put all the pieces in place.
We were pottering up on the roof after a particularly windy night which had destroyed our roof-top garden.
I was up with my wife and Roxanne, when we started talking about her again. We started talking about the last barbecue we had up there, when we got really plastered. Jade had passed out on the roof, and Ruby-Ann was close to going as well. Nothing would make Raphael lose it, while I recall being a bit unsteady. I told my wife that I really missed her, but I was convinced she was at rest.
Suddenly we closed our mouths as a great big brown and orange butterfly fluttered out of nowhere. I had not seen a King Butterfly in Malta for loads of years. But this one was as huge as a platter! The butterfly danced around me, before settling down on my wife's hair. We were struck speechless at this showing of God's magnificent creation. Roxanne looked on with awe as the butterfly lifted off, flew around her head, and then rose out of view.
I guess it was this last happening that really confirmed my beliefs.
Why is it that some people's loss affects you most? Is it because of their goodness, their unfailing help, or the total trust they offer you? Who knows...for me it has been a bizarre but self-healing experience.
First there was the dream, in which I was inclined to believe...then there was the butterfly incident, which totally convinced me.
When I think of Jade these days, it is usually with a grin and a contended sigh. Why should I grieve for someone who has finally found her place with the Lord? Yes my heart has finally settled and lost the stone that was resting heavily on it. I still mourn the physical person that was Jade obviously, but content with the knowledge that there is a new star in heaven tonight.
And the other Angels are probably wearing black lip-gloss, have their noses (and navels) pierced and listening to Heavy Metal right now as we speak!
A lot of things have happened as I already mentioned, but most importantly and sadly, has been the unexpected passing away of two dear friends. Two friends whom I never ever imagined that I would outlive, let alone look back in fondness on.
The first was the stroke that Dr.Karl Chirchop suffered. It was an incapacitating blow that struck this young gentle person. Now, politics has nothing to do with this since me and Karl go a little while back along the years. Many people know KC through his political work, but I wasn't one of them. Karl was actually our family GP, a Liverpool fan, and a hoot to talk to. The fact that I am on the opposite side of his political stands only spurred us to greater debates and thoughts. Karl passed away a month after his stroke, and his death left a great emptiness in my heart.
At his funeral service, I could see how much this man meant to so many people. Too young to go at only 42. KC, you are already sorely missed.
The second death, and one that struck so close to home was the passing away of our erstwhile feisty pianist Jade Brincat. Dying at twenty-one of a heart-attack is almost unheard of. Dying at twenty-one of an attack brought about by a simple anti-biotic is even more horrific. Jade had a history of heart palpitations not too many people knew about. The antibiotic which she took for a chest infection struck her just as she suffered one of her palpitations, resulting in a swift death.
The news came through at work. A mate of mine poked his head round my office door and said... "I don't want to alarm you or anything, but word is going around the factory that Jade died."
I remember looking up and saying that it probably was her grandmother who had been in hospital for some time.
Sandro replied that he had already heard that and that it was being denied. I recall leaping off my chair and going off to find Ruby-Ann who works with us at Gavazzi. I saw Glenn and Ruby down near the reception area, and at that moment my legs fell out from beneath me. A sense of bewilderness spread over me and all I could hear was the buzzing of the girls who were shocked at the news.
Needless to say, a lot of thoughts were being spoken out loud...being a rocker, a goth, ah, you know...rockers these days. I was so angry at those words.
I went down to Glenn and Ruby who confirmed my worst fears. the attack had taken her life swiftly and her parents had only a few seconds to reach out to their daughter.
It seems that Jade died in the ambulance on the way to hospital.
I cannot describe my grief. No words can ever hope to convery my despair at this friend's passing.
I cried and cried all through the following week...messages flooded my phone and my mailbox, as well as Stillborn's website. I felt this death so much... so so much. I used to pick up Jade on the way to the band, take her back home, meet up in church on Sunday evenings, pick her up on the way to work, and generally have a largely good time with loads of laughter punctuating the air. Jade was such a funny, lovable little person, and to this day I cannot fathom out why I felt her passing so much. She was much like the little sister I never had. My kids spent every last tear they had. They loved her with a passion.
Needless to say, the funeral service was chock-full, with practically every worker from Gavazzi attending, as well as the huge number of rockers that packed the parish church at Paola. It was so emotional and moving. I have never seen Raphael so distraught either, as we wept for our fallen friend.
Even now as I write, I am looking at her picture and feel the sorrow coming on again...
About a week after her funeral, I was still downcast and sad.
Until I had the dream.
I dreamt I was with my wife at hospital, walking along, when who should I see but Jade? She was wearing one of her usual black outfits, and she bade me to follow her. She went into a room, which promptly started to glow with an unearthly bright light, and Jade returned to us wearing an all-white smock with gilted edges, glowing bright yellow. At that point she hugged me and kissed me on the cheeks, telling me, 'Do you believe?'... We walked together to the exit, and in my disbelief asked her if she could, like, float...she smiled and hovered above the floor for a few seconds, before settling down with a giggle. I could only stare at her for a few moments. Jade started walking out of the door, and I can recall exactly that the sensor did not catch her presence, and she went on straight through the glass plate as if it wasn't even there. I think it was at that precise moment that I realised what she was trying to show me.
Out of the door I went with my wife. Jade turned to us and said. 'I guess this is goodbye until we meet again. Yes, until we meet again.'
At that point she spread her wings, held out her hands and rose up until she vanished from our view. An angel reaching out to the heaven that she so believed in...yes I believed.
Immediately I woke up, with a new feeling in my heart. Yes, Jade, our little butterfly had gone, no longer gracing us with her music, her mad giggle, her funny clothes and warm soul...but she would always be in our hearts and minds. Until we meet again.
I could already imagine her creating chaos in heaven as she tries to get the angels to try out nose-rings or black lip-stick! Not to mention playing Heavy Metal for them!
This was on a Saturday, and I had to talk to somebody about it. Well, what are friends for after all? I called a young priest friend of mine, who said that he had no doubt that she had talked to me through a dream. He was absolutely sure that she had reached our God in heaven, and He had sent a message to me to rest my grieving heart. Although I supposed he was right, I could hardly believe it.
Until the next day, when something extraordinary happened that put all the pieces in place.
We were pottering up on the roof after a particularly windy night which had destroyed our roof-top garden.
I was up with my wife and Roxanne, when we started talking about her again. We started talking about the last barbecue we had up there, when we got really plastered. Jade had passed out on the roof, and Ruby-Ann was close to going as well. Nothing would make Raphael lose it, while I recall being a bit unsteady. I told my wife that I really missed her, but I was convinced she was at rest.
Suddenly we closed our mouths as a great big brown and orange butterfly fluttered out of nowhere. I had not seen a King Butterfly in Malta for loads of years. But this one was as huge as a platter! The butterfly danced around me, before settling down on my wife's hair. We were struck speechless at this showing of God's magnificent creation. Roxanne looked on with awe as the butterfly lifted off, flew around her head, and then rose out of view.
I guess it was this last happening that really confirmed my beliefs.
Why is it that some people's loss affects you most? Is it because of their goodness, their unfailing help, or the total trust they offer you? Who knows...for me it has been a bizarre but self-healing experience.
First there was the dream, in which I was inclined to believe...then there was the butterfly incident, which totally convinced me.
When I think of Jade these days, it is usually with a grin and a contended sigh. Why should I grieve for someone who has finally found her place with the Lord? Yes my heart has finally settled and lost the stone that was resting heavily on it. I still mourn the physical person that was Jade obviously, but content with the knowledge that there is a new star in heaven tonight.
And the other Angels are probably wearing black lip-gloss, have their noses (and navels) pierced and listening to Heavy Metal right now as we speak!
Friday, September 05, 2008
S T U P E N D O U S !
The first rains of autumn coincided with the morning that my blasted flu' took over. And so being quite unable to sleep, I decided to make my way to the rather large balcony doors that face south on to the gardens, eager to catch some of the majesty that the night skies were unleashing upon this little island....for the first time in more than three months.
And for the umpteenth time I thought about the many times I have woken up simply to watch this spectacle. And of course wonder how I could portray at least once of those 'serpents of fire' making their way though the clouds. At least once. But alas, luck, or perseverance, was never on my side.
The next morning on the official Times site, I caught a glimpse of the photo below. And I could only gaze in wonder at the splendor of it all. The winding road caught in a fusion of orange lights, the distant buildings twinkling merrily in the background, with a great big tongue of lightning lapping up the air, bathing the immediate atmosphere with its binding whiteness.
And for the umpteenth time I thought about the many times I have woken up simply to watch this spectacle. And of course wonder how I could portray at least once of those 'serpents of fire' making their way though the clouds. At least once. But alas, luck, or perseverance, was never on my side.
The next morning on the official Times site, I caught a glimpse of the photo below. And I could only gaze in wonder at the splendor of it all. The winding road caught in a fusion of orange lights, the distant buildings twinkling merrily in the background, with a great big tongue of lightning lapping up the air, bathing the immediate atmosphere with its binding whiteness.
(click thumbnail to view image in full)Photographer Malcolm Sammut has been kind enough to share this beautiful rendering of the power of nature free of charge to all those who have asked him for the photo. For that we thank him and offer our most sincere appreciation for an art that is asking for even more ingenuity due to the increase in technology. But apart from framing and a name, this picture in untouched. Pure timing and skill.
I can only say ... touche'.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Bah...ill
It is NOT turning out to be a good week after all. About the only thing that can be said in its' favour is the fact that I won't be at work. But it will certainly not be enjoyable....au contraire.
The fact is that I have a rather harsh throat infection, meandering up to my ears. And it isn't pleasant at all. Strangely enough I didn't have anything yesterday, sure, I sneezed a couple of times, but not what you might make you think something's coming up.
But this night was a torment. After returning home from band practice, I felt a bit out of sorts, but put it away to tiredness, since the medication bloody well kills me. I did not close an eye for more than ten minutes, and stayed awake watching the lightning show.
And now my worst fear. An infection. Something as innocuous as this can really endanger my health. I can only hope that my antibodies have started working a bit now. It has been four months now since the 'deadly yellow' pills have been stopped, so things should be ok.
But a little insurance never hurt anyone, so a quick call to hospital made sure that the medics knew of my condition. As always, I have full faith in my helpers!
I'm going to bed, maybe get some shut-eye.
The fact is that I have a rather harsh throat infection, meandering up to my ears. And it isn't pleasant at all. Strangely enough I didn't have anything yesterday, sure, I sneezed a couple of times, but not what you might make you think something's coming up.
But this night was a torment. After returning home from band practice, I felt a bit out of sorts, but put it away to tiredness, since the medication bloody well kills me. I did not close an eye for more than ten minutes, and stayed awake watching the lightning show.
And now my worst fear. An infection. Something as innocuous as this can really endanger my health. I can only hope that my antibodies have started working a bit now. It has been four months now since the 'deadly yellow' pills have been stopped, so things should be ok.
But a little insurance never hurt anyone, so a quick call to hospital made sure that the medics knew of my condition. As always, I have full faith in my helpers!
I'm going to bed, maybe get some shut-eye.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Blonde Hookers!
As I make my way home from band practice every Saturday night, I pass in front of a house in Marsa which is well known for providing pleasures of the flesh to the hard-working men of the area. Now sitting on the doorstep of this house, are usually three or four of the women who, let us say ,'inhabit' the house in question.
Nothing unusual, one might say, after all, plying their trade in the traditional fashion is one of the oldest jobs ever available to mankind.
But one thing comes to my mind. Why is it that ALL of the assorted women who are on the doorstep are a frightening shade of pale blonde? There is a short one, a tall err...lady, a skinny one and a quite chubby one, who resembles my mother in age...but all unquestionably peroxide blonde.
What is it with hookers and blondes? This is a question that has me pondering mightily why it should be so. I can honestly say that I have not yet mustered the courage to stop and ask. Nor do I have any intention of doing so.
Be that as it may...there is a girl there who sometimes makes an appearance, and she is immensely beautiful, young and well-proportioned. But she sports jet-black hair.
Ah....must be the tea-lady then!
Nothing unusual, one might say, after all, plying their trade in the traditional fashion is one of the oldest jobs ever available to mankind.
But one thing comes to my mind. Why is it that ALL of the assorted women who are on the doorstep are a frightening shade of pale blonde? There is a short one, a tall err...lady, a skinny one and a quite chubby one, who resembles my mother in age...but all unquestionably peroxide blonde.
What is it with hookers and blondes? This is a question that has me pondering mightily why it should be so. I can honestly say that I have not yet mustered the courage to stop and ask. Nor do I have any intention of doing so.
Be that as it may...there is a girl there who sometimes makes an appearance, and she is immensely beautiful, young and well-proportioned. But she sports jet-black hair.
Ah....must be the tea-lady then!
Monday, August 25, 2008
End of the games...and a lesson in humility.
A month has passed since I wrote something, but a really hot spell made sure I did not touch my computer. A lot of things have happened, on which I will catch up later. But this story from the Olympic Games warmed my heart. Competing against adversaries is one thing, competing against life is another. The following story is compiled from one written by Charles Robinson.
Samia Yusuf Omar headed back to Somalia Sunday, returning to the small two-room house in Mogadishu shared by seven family members. Her mother lives there, selling fruits and vegetables. Her father is buried there, the victim of a wayward artillery shell that hit their home and also killed Samia’s aunt and uncle.
This is the Olympic story we never heard.
It’s about a girl whose Beijing moment lasted a mere 32 seconds – the slowest 200-meter dash time out of the 46 women who competed in the event. Thirty-two seconds that almost nobody saw but that she carries home with her, swelled with joy and wonderment. Back to a decades-long civil war that has flattened much of her city. Back to an Olympic program with few Olympians and no facilities. Back to meals of flat bread, wheat porridge and tap water.
“I have my pride,” she said through a translator before leaving China. “This is the highest thing any athlete can hope for. It has been a very happy experience for me. I am proud to bring the Somali flag to fly with all of these countries, and to stand with the best athletes in the world.”
There are many life stories that collide in each Olympics – many intriguing tales of glory and tragedy. Beijing delivered the electricity of Usain Bolt and the determination of Michael Phelps. It left hearts heavy with the disappointment of Liu Xiang and the heartache of Hugh McCutcheon.
But it also gave us Samia Yusuf Omar – one small girl from one chaotic country – and a story that might have gone unnoticed if it hadn’t been for a roaring half-empty stadium.
It was Aug. 19, and the tiny girl had crossed over seven lanes to find her starting block in her 200-meter heat. She walked past Jamaica’s Veronica Campbell-Brown – the eventual gold medalist in the event. Samia had read about Campbell-Brown in track and field magazines and once watched her in wonderment on television. As a cameraman panned down the starting blocks, it settled on lane No. 2, on a 17-year old girl with the frame of a Kenyan distance runner. Samia’s biography in the Olympic media system contained almost no information, other than her 5-foot-4, 54kilo frame. There was no mention of her personal best times and nothing on previous track meets. Somalia, it was later explained, has a hard time organizing the records of its athletes.
She looked so odd and out of place among her competitors, with her white headband and a baggy, untucked T-shirt. The legs on her wiry frame were thin and spindly, and her arms poked out of her sleeves like the twigs of a sapling. She tugged at the bottom of her shirt and shot an occasional nervous glance at the other runners in her heat. Each had muscles bulging from beneath their skin-tight track suits. Many outweighed Samia by nearly 20kilograms.
After introductions, she knelt into her starting block.
When the gun went off in Samia’s 200-meter heat, seven women blasted from their starting blocks, registering as little as 16/100 of a second of reaction time. Samia’s start was slow enough that the computer didn’t read it, leaving her reaction time blank on the heat’s statistical printout.
Within seconds, seven competitors were thundering around the curve in Beijing’s Bird’s Nest, struggling to separate themselves from one another. Samia was just entering the curve when her opponents were nearing the finish line. The television feed had lost her entirely by the time Veronica Campbell-Brown crossed the finish line in a trotting 23.04 seconds.
As the athletes came to a halt and knelt, stretching and sucking deep breaths, a camera moved to ground level. In the background of the picture, a white dot wearing a headband could be seen coming down the stretch.
Until this month, Samia had been to two countries outside of her own – Djibouti and Ethiopia. Asked how she will describe Beijing, her eyes get big and she snickers from under a blue and white Olympic baseball cap.
“The stadiums, I never thought something like this existed in the world,” she said. “The buildings in the city, it was all very surprising. It will probably take days to finish all the stories we have to tell.”
Asked about Beijing’s otherworldly Water Cube, she lets out a sigh: “Ahhhhhhh.”
Before she can answer, Abdi cuts her off.
“I didn’t know what it was when I saw it,” he said. “Is it plastic? Is it magic?”
Few buildings are beyond two or three stories tall in Mogadishu, and those still standing are mostly in tatters. Only pictures will be able to describe some of Beijing’s structures, from the ancient architecture of the Forbidden City to the modernity of the Water Cube and the Bird’s Nest.
“The Olympic fire in the stadium, everywhere I am, it is always up there,” Samia said. “It’s like the moon. I look up wherever I go, it is there.”
These are the stories they will relish when they return to Somalia, which they believe has, for one brief moment, united the country’s warring tribes. Farah said he had received calls from countrymen all over the world, asking how their two athletes were doing and what they had experienced in China. On the morning of Samia’s race, it was just after 5 a.m., and locals from her neighborhood were scrambling to find a television with a broadcast.
“People stayed awake to see it,” Farah said. “The good thing, sports is the one thing which unites all of Somalia.”
That is one of the common threads they share with every athlete at the Games. Just being an Olympian and carrying the country’s flag brings an immense sense of pride to families and neighborhoods which typically know only despair.
A pride that Samia will share with her mother, three brothers and three sisters. A pride that Abdi will carry home to his father, two brothers and two sisters. Like Samia’s father two years ago, Abdi’s mother was killed in the civil war, by a mortar shell that hit the family’s home in 1993.
“We are very proud,” Samia said. “Because of us, the Somali flag is raised among all the other nations’ flags. You can’t imagine how proud we were when we were marching in the Opening Ceremonies with the flag.
“Despite the difficulties and everything we’ve had with our country, we feel great pride in our accomplishment.”
As Samia came down the stretch in her 200-meter heat, she realized that the Somalian Olympic federation had chosen to place her in the wrong event. The 200 wasn’t nearly the best event for a middle distance runner. But the federation believed the dash would serve as a “good experience” for her. Now she was coming down the stretch alone, pumping her arms and tilting her head to the side with a look of despair.
Suddenly, the half-empty stadium realized there was still a runner on the track, still pushing to get across the finish line almost eight seconds behind the seven women who had already completed the race. In the last 50 meters, much of the stadium rose to its feet, flooding the track below with cheers of encouragement. A few competitors who had left Samia behind turned and watched it unfold.
As Samia crossed the line in 32.16 seconds, the crowd roared in applause. Bahamian runner Sheniqua Ferguson, the next smallest woman on the track at 5-foot-7 and 130 pounds, looked at the girl crossing the finish and thought to herself, “Wow, she’s tiny.”
“She must love running,” Ferguson said later.
Several days later, Samia waved off her Olympic moment as being inspirational. While she was still filled with joy over her chance to compete, and though she knew she had done all she could, part of her seemed embarrassed that the crowd had risen to its feet to help push her across the finish line.
“I was happy the people were cheering and encouraging me,” she said. “But I would have liked to be cheered because I won, not because I needed encouragement. It is something I will work on. I will try my best not to be the last person next time. It was very nice for people to give me that encouragement, but I would prefer the winning cheer.
She shrugged and smiled.
“I knew it was an uphill task.”
And there it was. While the Olympics are often promoted for the fastest and strongest and most agile champions, there is something to be said for the ones who finish out of the limelight. The ones who finish last and leave with their pride.
At their best, the Olympics still signify competition and purity, a love for sport. What represents that better than two athletes who carry their country’s flag into the Games despite their country’s inability to carry them before that moment? What better way to find the best of the Olympic spirit than by looking at those who endure so much that would break it?
“We know that we are different from the other athletes,” Samia said. “But we don’t want to show it. We try our best to look like all the rest. We understand we are not anywhere near the level of the other competitors here. We understand that very, very well. But more than anything else, we would like to show the dignity of ourselves and our country.”
She smiles when she says this, sitting a stone’s throw from a Somalian flag that she and her countryman Abdi brought to these Games. They came and went from Beijing largely unnoticed, but may have been the most dignified example these Olympics could offer.
Samia Yusuf Omar headed back to Somalia Sunday, returning to the small two-room house in Mogadishu shared by seven family members. Her mother lives there, selling fruits and vegetables. Her father is buried there, the victim of a wayward artillery shell that hit their home and also killed Samia’s aunt and uncle.
This is the Olympic story we never heard.
It’s about a girl whose Beijing moment lasted a mere 32 seconds – the slowest 200-meter dash time out of the 46 women who competed in the event. Thirty-two seconds that almost nobody saw but that she carries home with her, swelled with joy and wonderment. Back to a decades-long civil war that has flattened much of her city. Back to an Olympic program with few Olympians and no facilities. Back to meals of flat bread, wheat porridge and tap water.
“I have my pride,” she said through a translator before leaving China. “This is the highest thing any athlete can hope for. It has been a very happy experience for me. I am proud to bring the Somali flag to fly with all of these countries, and to stand with the best athletes in the world.”
There are many life stories that collide in each Olympics – many intriguing tales of glory and tragedy. Beijing delivered the electricity of Usain Bolt and the determination of Michael Phelps. It left hearts heavy with the disappointment of Liu Xiang and the heartache of Hugh McCutcheon.
But it also gave us Samia Yusuf Omar – one small girl from one chaotic country – and a story that might have gone unnoticed if it hadn’t been for a roaring half-empty stadium.
It was Aug. 19, and the tiny girl had crossed over seven lanes to find her starting block in her 200-meter heat. She walked past Jamaica’s Veronica Campbell-Brown – the eventual gold medalist in the event. Samia had read about Campbell-Brown in track and field magazines and once watched her in wonderment on television. As a cameraman panned down the starting blocks, it settled on lane No. 2, on a 17-year old girl with the frame of a Kenyan distance runner. Samia’s biography in the Olympic media system contained almost no information, other than her 5-foot-4, 54kilo frame. There was no mention of her personal best times and nothing on previous track meets. Somalia, it was later explained, has a hard time organizing the records of its athletes.
She looked so odd and out of place among her competitors, with her white headband and a baggy, untucked T-shirt. The legs on her wiry frame were thin and spindly, and her arms poked out of her sleeves like the twigs of a sapling. She tugged at the bottom of her shirt and shot an occasional nervous glance at the other runners in her heat. Each had muscles bulging from beneath their skin-tight track suits. Many outweighed Samia by nearly 20kilograms.
After introductions, she knelt into her starting block.
When the gun went off in Samia’s 200-meter heat, seven women blasted from their starting blocks, registering as little as 16/100 of a second of reaction time. Samia’s start was slow enough that the computer didn’t read it, leaving her reaction time blank on the heat’s statistical printout.
Within seconds, seven competitors were thundering around the curve in Beijing’s Bird’s Nest, struggling to separate themselves from one another. Samia was just entering the curve when her opponents were nearing the finish line. The television feed had lost her entirely by the time Veronica Campbell-Brown crossed the finish line in a trotting 23.04 seconds.
As the athletes came to a halt and knelt, stretching and sucking deep breaths, a camera moved to ground level. In the background of the picture, a white dot wearing a headband could be seen coming down the stretch.
Until this month, Samia had been to two countries outside of her own – Djibouti and Ethiopia. Asked how she will describe Beijing, her eyes get big and she snickers from under a blue and white Olympic baseball cap.
“The stadiums, I never thought something like this existed in the world,” she said. “The buildings in the city, it was all very surprising. It will probably take days to finish all the stories we have to tell.”
Asked about Beijing’s otherworldly Water Cube, she lets out a sigh: “Ahhhhhhh.”
Before she can answer, Abdi cuts her off.
“I didn’t know what it was when I saw it,” he said. “Is it plastic? Is it magic?”
Few buildings are beyond two or three stories tall in Mogadishu, and those still standing are mostly in tatters. Only pictures will be able to describe some of Beijing’s structures, from the ancient architecture of the Forbidden City to the modernity of the Water Cube and the Bird’s Nest.
“The Olympic fire in the stadium, everywhere I am, it is always up there,” Samia said. “It’s like the moon. I look up wherever I go, it is there.”
These are the stories they will relish when they return to Somalia, which they believe has, for one brief moment, united the country’s warring tribes. Farah said he had received calls from countrymen all over the world, asking how their two athletes were doing and what they had experienced in China. On the morning of Samia’s race, it was just after 5 a.m., and locals from her neighborhood were scrambling to find a television with a broadcast.
“People stayed awake to see it,” Farah said. “The good thing, sports is the one thing which unites all of Somalia.”
That is one of the common threads they share with every athlete at the Games. Just being an Olympian and carrying the country’s flag brings an immense sense of pride to families and neighborhoods which typically know only despair.
A pride that Samia will share with her mother, three brothers and three sisters. A pride that Abdi will carry home to his father, two brothers and two sisters. Like Samia’s father two years ago, Abdi’s mother was killed in the civil war, by a mortar shell that hit the family’s home in 1993.
“We are very proud,” Samia said. “Because of us, the Somali flag is raised among all the other nations’ flags. You can’t imagine how proud we were when we were marching in the Opening Ceremonies with the flag.
“Despite the difficulties and everything we’ve had with our country, we feel great pride in our accomplishment.”
As Samia came down the stretch in her 200-meter heat, she realized that the Somalian Olympic federation had chosen to place her in the wrong event. The 200 wasn’t nearly the best event for a middle distance runner. But the federation believed the dash would serve as a “good experience” for her. Now she was coming down the stretch alone, pumping her arms and tilting her head to the side with a look of despair.
Suddenly, the half-empty stadium realized there was still a runner on the track, still pushing to get across the finish line almost eight seconds behind the seven women who had already completed the race. In the last 50 meters, much of the stadium rose to its feet, flooding the track below with cheers of encouragement. A few competitors who had left Samia behind turned and watched it unfold.
As Samia crossed the line in 32.16 seconds, the crowd roared in applause. Bahamian runner Sheniqua Ferguson, the next smallest woman on the track at 5-foot-7 and 130 pounds, looked at the girl crossing the finish and thought to herself, “Wow, she’s tiny.”
“She must love running,” Ferguson said later.
Several days later, Samia waved off her Olympic moment as being inspirational. While she was still filled with joy over her chance to compete, and though she knew she had done all she could, part of her seemed embarrassed that the crowd had risen to its feet to help push her across the finish line.
“I was happy the people were cheering and encouraging me,” she said. “But I would have liked to be cheered because I won, not because I needed encouragement. It is something I will work on. I will try my best not to be the last person next time. It was very nice for people to give me that encouragement, but I would prefer the winning cheer.
She shrugged and smiled.
“I knew it was an uphill task.”
And there it was. While the Olympics are often promoted for the fastest and strongest and most agile champions, there is something to be said for the ones who finish out of the limelight. The ones who finish last and leave with their pride.
At their best, the Olympics still signify competition and purity, a love for sport. What represents that better than two athletes who carry their country’s flag into the Games despite their country’s inability to carry them before that moment? What better way to find the best of the Olympic spirit than by looking at those who endure so much that would break it?
“We know that we are different from the other athletes,” Samia said. “But we don’t want to show it. We try our best to look like all the rest. We understand we are not anywhere near the level of the other competitors here. We understand that very, very well. But more than anything else, we would like to show the dignity of ourselves and our country.”
She smiles when she says this, sitting a stone’s throw from a Somalian flag that she and her countryman Abdi brought to these Games. They came and went from Beijing largely unnoticed, but may have been the most dignified example these Olympics could offer.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Bicycle races are coming your way.
Following a series of health problems, (thankfully now relatively under control) I have been given the all-green to start exercising again at a more hectic pace. I enjoy walking, but I wanted something a little bit more demanding. Running was out of the question due to the impact produced.
So, something that was non-impact and still quite productive.Having lately bought a bicycle for my youngest daughter, I asked her for a ride. It was nothing short of exhilirating. Ever since I was a toddler, until way past my teens, I had always relied on a bicycle to get me from point A to B. First with the classic Chopper, then on Raleigh Racers, they kept me fit. So I began looking around on the 'net and in the shops for a decent bike. One that was sturdy enough to cope with my weight...but with a price tag that wasn't too high!
Thankfully, the little monkey that pulls the strings in my brain, reminded me of Etienne. This guys rocks. National cycling champion for the last million years or so, I thought he might have a bike he would like to dispose of! I mean this guy collects bikes like I collect BBQ invitations!
So, a quick trip downstairs and after a long trek, (this guy lives next door! hehe) I asked him whether he had something for me. Unfortunately I realised that all the bikes in Etienne's collections cost as much as a car! Well, several cars actually! No way I could purchase one of them.
The champ took me round a corner in his huge garage and asked me if I was interested in borrowing a bike that he had not used in years. There, under the dirt and grime, a bright yellow Giant ATX 990 Hybrid lay forlornly in the company of a red Cannondale MTB.
Since the Giant has front and rear suspension, it was just right for my broken back. Etienne duly serviced the bike and handed it to me quickly. And I am amazed at the quality of this beautiful machine! Needless to say, I have to be extra careful with this thing. It costs a hell of a LOT of money!
The 990 has a medium-sized frame with a high-ground clearance due to the long travel of the front fork, as well as the rear shock. Brakes that can stop the bike on a dime, and super-smooth gear changers, as well as beautifully machined parts adorn this beautiful giant. Following a series of short runs to acquaint myself with this monster, yesterday I took my Roxy for a series of laps at Sta.Lucia track. We managed a creditable 10km before finally succumbing to darkness and fatigue.
And now? Now I have aches and pains in muscles that I never knew existed! But they are happy pains...and my back? Nary a twinge.
My ass hurts though!
And Roxy is still sleeping away...aaah...the life of a student!
OH! ALWAYS wear a helmet on a bike. ALWAYS!
So, something that was non-impact and still quite productive.Having lately bought a bicycle for my youngest daughter, I asked her for a ride. It was nothing short of exhilirating. Ever since I was a toddler, until way past my teens, I had always relied on a bicycle to get me from point A to B. First with the classic Chopper, then on Raleigh Racers, they kept me fit. So I began looking around on the 'net and in the shops for a decent bike. One that was sturdy enough to cope with my weight...but with a price tag that wasn't too high!
Thankfully, the little monkey that pulls the strings in my brain, reminded me of Etienne. This guys rocks. National cycling champion for the last million years or so, I thought he might have a bike he would like to dispose of! I mean this guy collects bikes like I collect BBQ invitations!
So, a quick trip downstairs and after a long trek, (this guy lives next door! hehe) I asked him whether he had something for me. Unfortunately I realised that all the bikes in Etienne's collections cost as much as a car! Well, several cars actually! No way I could purchase one of them.
The champ took me round a corner in his huge garage and asked me if I was interested in borrowing a bike that he had not used in years. There, under the dirt and grime, a bright yellow Giant ATX 990 Hybrid lay forlornly in the company of a red Cannondale MTB.
Since the Giant has front and rear suspension, it was just right for my broken back. Etienne duly serviced the bike and handed it to me quickly. And I am amazed at the quality of this beautiful machine! Needless to say, I have to be extra careful with this thing. It costs a hell of a LOT of money!
The 990 has a medium-sized frame with a high-ground clearance due to the long travel of the front fork, as well as the rear shock. Brakes that can stop the bike on a dime, and super-smooth gear changers, as well as beautifully machined parts adorn this beautiful giant. Following a series of short runs to acquaint myself with this monster, yesterday I took my Roxy for a series of laps at Sta.Lucia track. We managed a creditable 10km before finally succumbing to darkness and fatigue.
And now? Now I have aches and pains in muscles that I never knew existed! But they are happy pains...and my back? Nary a twinge.
My ass hurts though!
And Roxy is still sleeping away...aaah...the life of a student!
OH! ALWAYS wear a helmet on a bike. ALWAYS!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
For once, Bill Gates is superbly right!
Love him or hate him, he sure hits the nail on the head with this! Bill Gates recently gave a speech at a High School about 11 things they did not and will not learn in school. He talks about how feel-good, politically correct teachings created a generation of kids with no concept of reality and how this concept set them up for failure in the real world.Rule 1 : Life is not fair - get used to it!
Rule 2 : The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.
Rule 3 : You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.
Rule 4 : If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.
Rule 5 : Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your Grandparents had a different word for burger flipping: they called it opportunity.
Rule 6 : If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.
Rule 7 : Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent's generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.
Rule 8 : Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.
Rule 9 : Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time.
Rule 10 : Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.
Rule 11 : Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.
If you agree, pass this message on to your mates.
If you can read this - Thank a teacher!
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Unpleasant Incident.
At the moment I am little shaken. I have just had to call the emergency services to send an ambulance for a 13-14 year old girl who was clearly dead drunk, and trying to cut her arms open with a broken beer bottle. Along with other people in the garden, I did try to calm the girl down, without obviously even trying to touch her to remove the bottle from her hand. She managed to wound herself quite seriously I think, and I could feel nothing but pity for her.
There was nothing else to do except call for help. Fortunately somebody else had also seen her stagger down the middle of the road in her inebriated state and called the police.
One might complain all he want about Malta, but not surely against these two stalwarts of law, order and health. Barely five minutes had passed and both police and ambulance were on site, taking care of the girl.
I could hear her swearing in English, cursing her luck and of wanting to die. What is it that drives such young people to this distress? Such a pity, for life is beautiful if lived right. Suffice to say that this girl is a year older than my daughter, and is well known here.
A few minutes after she was picked up by the ambulance, we could hear it screaming away into the distance... and we all know that ambulances do not use a siren for nothing.
Just another sad incident at Tarxien...
There was nothing else to do except call for help. Fortunately somebody else had also seen her stagger down the middle of the road in her inebriated state and called the police.
One might complain all he want about Malta, but not surely against these two stalwarts of law, order and health. Barely five minutes had passed and both police and ambulance were on site, taking care of the girl.
I could hear her swearing in English, cursing her luck and of wanting to die. What is it that drives such young people to this distress? Such a pity, for life is beautiful if lived right. Suffice to say that this girl is a year older than my daughter, and is well known here.
A few minutes after she was picked up by the ambulance, we could hear it screaming away into the distance... and we all know that ambulances do not use a siren for nothing.
Just another sad incident at Tarxien...
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Do I moan too much?
I have a (thankfully large) number of friends who tell me that I am always moaning about this or that. Although I thank them for the interest they show in my little scribblings, I would like to set the record straight.
I grumble where there is cause to grumble. I praise where there is reason to praise.
Starting from Thursday afternoon. I listened in horrific silence as my wife explained to me how she was going to pick little Roxy from school, only to see parents running as a shout went out that a child had been hit by a car. Obviously all parents would be scared shitless at this horrible news, and my wife's imagination went riot as she imagined that it could be ours.
It was not Roxy thankfully, but another poor girl who had escaped her mother's grasp, and run along the pavement. Seeing one of the mammoth UGLY festa columns in her way, she nimbly stepped onto the road, where she promptly was sent flying by a car driven by a teacher at the school no less. The poor woman (who also happens to be pregnant) was innocent of the fact, and obviously was moving along quite slowly. This was a great shock to her too I can imagine, although not as much as it was to the poor girl who lay on the ground crying and screaming at the top of her voice. (Thankfully the little lady escaped with nothing to show for it except bruising and shock.)
So where is the gripe here? Let me say this straight. If it had been my daughter who had to go down into the road and get run over because of the 'festa' columns, I would make sure that there would be no festa ever in Tarxien. Ever! I would sue the bastards down to their last nut! It has become 'tradition' to adorn the streets with these monstrous columns which do not allow room for walking on the pavement. Shame on you guys. YOU know who you are. YOU know which street I am talking about. Is it legal for these people to do this? Do they have a police license to stick these eyesores on the pavement? Do you know the problem you cause with traffic in the morning and afternoon at school-time? As if it isn't enough to have petards shake your house for a whole week...God how I hate them. I just wish they would be banned.
Another dangerous ugly column is one that is at the top of the road coming in from 'Tal-Barrani' and corner with 'Main Street', just where the Tarxien Wine Bar street ends. I tell you one thing. YOU CANNOT SEE A BUS COMING because of this ugly monstrosity. I nearly swiped a Lotus Elan careering down the road. The driver ticked me off properly until I meekly replied that I couldn't see him because the column blocked the view.
"Damn you're right. Who put that fucking thing there?"
How would I answer that? So...please be careful of these things. If they block the view of the road, they are probably illegal. ACTION!
Let's cue to last Saturday evening. Right after band practice my kids wanted to go to Mc.Donalds at Gudja International. While not against the fast-food industry in any way, I would rather go to a nice quiet (on Saturday? Right!) restaurant, or at least a pizzeria...but no, they wanted to go there to meet up with friends. No problem for me anyways, I could never resist a good burger, although to be totally honest I think that the new paint scheme at the Gudja Macadoo sucks big-time. This is a burger joint for pete's sake, not a high-falutin fancy Italian restaurant!
And here I come up to the first problem, or as my mates say, first moan. I fully understand that Saturday is a busy day for any establishment, but to populate the serving counter with barely out-of-school guys and girls is asking a bit too much in my humble opinion. The serving girl gleefully managed to get all our order wrong, and no amount of pleading could I convince her that it was not what I wanted. But, I am a kind man at heart, and seeing the panic this girl had on her, I simply decided to hand over my money and let matters be. Fortunately she did get MY order right, but just about that was the only thing. She even neglected to give us spoons for the ice-cream! Ah well...the work will do them good anyway.
Alas, I have another moan coming up. My kids love reading, and as they finished the meal, begged me to take them to Agenda book-shop at the terminal to buy a book. I usually get all my books from play.com since they are invariably cheaper, but obviously take some time to arrive. However the girls at Agenda are always courteous and nice, especially to the kids, so we made our way down the car-park to cross the road right in front of the departures.
We stopped in fron of the zebra crossing, and seeing that the only vehicle coming was in fact quite far-off, we started to cross. What we did not realise was the high speed at which this vehicle (a red mini-bus!) was being driven. Do you think the driver stepped of the gas pedal to allow us to cross? NOT ON YOUR LIFE. I had to pull my daughters back to avoid an accident.
Here I apologise to the (very) few decent mini-van drivers...but I consider these people to be not much above the scum that dirties the road. It is no use trying to explain to me. Ever since I was young enough to notice this form of transport, I have come to realise how badly educated they are Truth is truth, and no amount of advertising will convince me otherwise.
So yes, maybe I moan too much. But I tell you something. If just ONE of my moans manages to right one wrong, then I feel vindicated.
As usual...KEEP ROCKING!
I grumble where there is cause to grumble. I praise where there is reason to praise.
Starting from Thursday afternoon. I listened in horrific silence as my wife explained to me how she was going to pick little Roxy from school, only to see parents running as a shout went out that a child had been hit by a car. Obviously all parents would be scared shitless at this horrible news, and my wife's imagination went riot as she imagined that it could be ours.
It was not Roxy thankfully, but another poor girl who had escaped her mother's grasp, and run along the pavement. Seeing one of the mammoth UGLY festa columns in her way, she nimbly stepped onto the road, where she promptly was sent flying by a car driven by a teacher at the school no less. The poor woman (who also happens to be pregnant) was innocent of the fact, and obviously was moving along quite slowly. This was a great shock to her too I can imagine, although not as much as it was to the poor girl who lay on the ground crying and screaming at the top of her voice. (Thankfully the little lady escaped with nothing to show for it except bruising and shock.)
So where is the gripe here? Let me say this straight. If it had been my daughter who had to go down into the road and get run over because of the 'festa' columns, I would make sure that there would be no festa ever in Tarxien. Ever! I would sue the bastards down to their last nut! It has become 'tradition' to adorn the streets with these monstrous columns which do not allow room for walking on the pavement. Shame on you guys. YOU know who you are. YOU know which street I am talking about. Is it legal for these people to do this? Do they have a police license to stick these eyesores on the pavement? Do you know the problem you cause with traffic in the morning and afternoon at school-time? As if it isn't enough to have petards shake your house for a whole week...God how I hate them. I just wish they would be banned.
Another dangerous ugly column is one that is at the top of the road coming in from 'Tal-Barrani' and corner with 'Main Street', just where the Tarxien Wine Bar street ends. I tell you one thing. YOU CANNOT SEE A BUS COMING because of this ugly monstrosity. I nearly swiped a Lotus Elan careering down the road. The driver ticked me off properly until I meekly replied that I couldn't see him because the column blocked the view.
"Damn you're right. Who put that fucking thing there?"
How would I answer that? So...please be careful of these things. If they block the view of the road, they are probably illegal. ACTION!
Let's cue to last Saturday evening. Right after band practice my kids wanted to go to Mc.Donalds at Gudja International. While not against the fast-food industry in any way, I would rather go to a nice quiet (on Saturday? Right!) restaurant, or at least a pizzeria...but no, they wanted to go there to meet up with friends. No problem for me anyways, I could never resist a good burger, although to be totally honest I think that the new paint scheme at the Gudja Macadoo sucks big-time. This is a burger joint for pete's sake, not a high-falutin fancy Italian restaurant!
And here I come up to the first problem, or as my mates say, first moan. I fully understand that Saturday is a busy day for any establishment, but to populate the serving counter with barely out-of-school guys and girls is asking a bit too much in my humble opinion. The serving girl gleefully managed to get all our order wrong, and no amount of pleading could I convince her that it was not what I wanted. But, I am a kind man at heart, and seeing the panic this girl had on her, I simply decided to hand over my money and let matters be. Fortunately she did get MY order right, but just about that was the only thing. She even neglected to give us spoons for the ice-cream! Ah well...the work will do them good anyway.
Alas, I have another moan coming up. My kids love reading, and as they finished the meal, begged me to take them to Agenda book-shop at the terminal to buy a book. I usually get all my books from play.com since they are invariably cheaper, but obviously take some time to arrive. However the girls at Agenda are always courteous and nice, especially to the kids, so we made our way down the car-park to cross the road right in front of the departures.
We stopped in fron of the zebra crossing, and seeing that the only vehicle coming was in fact quite far-off, we started to cross. What we did not realise was the high speed at which this vehicle (a red mini-bus!) was being driven. Do you think the driver stepped of the gas pedal to allow us to cross? NOT ON YOUR LIFE. I had to pull my daughters back to avoid an accident.
Here I apologise to the (very) few decent mini-van drivers...but I consider these people to be not much above the scum that dirties the road. It is no use trying to explain to me. Ever since I was young enough to notice this form of transport, I have come to realise how badly educated they are Truth is truth, and no amount of advertising will convince me otherwise.
So yes, maybe I moan too much. But I tell you something. If just ONE of my moans manages to right one wrong, then I feel vindicated.
As usual...KEEP ROCKING!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Amazing product!
Looking out for a new mobile phone recently, I was impressed at the specs offered by this phone from China, and on a whim, decided to get one.
At the paltry price of 99$, how wrong can one get? The only thing I can say is that thank heavens I got this phone!
It is a superb piece of multimedia kit. I can listen to music on my car amplifier via bluetooth, I can see the images from the camera on a large screen, and also watch movies on it.
Unfortunately sometimes I spend hours at hospital, and the ebook-reader option is a god-send. You can carry all amounts of books on it. Just plop your .txt file into the appropriate folder and that's all there is to it. You can switch from book to book without the phone losing your page! The phone can even auto-scroll the pages for you, by line or by page...
The screen is bright, clear and easy to use, calling someone is a doddle, and all round the phone is extremely easy to use. Okay it doesn't have wi-fi, but it never was on my priorities list, although it would have been nice. A couple of weeks ago I used to take my mobile phone and a pda with me wherever I go, but this is just great. The only thing I THINK I do not have is the 'shake' thingy, but no big deal to me.
The calls on the set are clear, and using the provided headset, I can go out for a walk with just this thing in my pocket, and when a call comes through it is patched through to the headphones....admittedly the earpieces supplied were rubbish, so I just removed them from the small speakers, and soldered a decent pair from Creative...and the sound is divine. Maybe not iPhone quality , but really good anyway.
Hehe...the original ones were moulded on a set of really expensive Sennheisers. I should know, owning the originals myself.
And you should hear this thing blaring through Bluetooth...oh the freedom of having your kids change the music at the back of my car without asking! And for private use try a pair of Motorola BT phones on this..you will be amazed.
In the case it has six speakers and they are LOUD...sorry . L-O-U-D!!!! I don't need a radio anymore! You even can set this phone up to switch itself off at , say, 11pm and switch itself on at 6am, hook up various alarms throughout the day and over a whole week...''wake me up at 6am on Mondays through Wednesday, at 7.30am on Thursdays and bugger off on Fridays.'' Yes, really!
And the alarm sounds so gorgeous, a sweet Chinese melody that I sometimes leave playing simply so I can hear it. Unobtrusive SMS pings and warbles... a good selection actually.
The calendar is a bit limiting, but not extrmely so, seeing that you can even use really accurate handwriting to input your data! And I have found a software to synchronise with my PC. There is also a camera which is touted at being 2MP, but unfortunately can only go up to VGA resolution. Firmware time anyone? The pictures are really great on a sunny day, but suffer a bit when taken inside. You can also frame the images with pre-drawn funky frames for your kids.
But there are too many other features to mention in a short review.
The $99 included the phone, 2 batteries (why? each charge lasts well over 10 days!), a wall charger, an electrical outlet adapter, a silicon-cover, a 1Gb SanDisk micro-SD with a larger USB adapter, a USB Cable for charging the phone and using it as a flash-drive, a car-lighter to USB Charger kit, head-set with microphone and earphones as well as switch for track-advancing or switching to answer-mode. Oh yes, the screen-protector as well as velvet-wipe for it. Hope I haven't forgotten anything. And all for the price of $99.
Ridiculous...I cannot imagine how they earn money selling this. I guess the only quibble I would find is the width of the unit, but even that is acceptable...it is a multimedia machine after all, with a HUGE touch screen. There is also a nice little stowaway stylus the goes into the phone's battery cover.
Now isn't that COOL? I really would buy another one.
Highly recommended! Just don't let your kids near it! You might never see this gem again, unless it is in their grubby hands!
Thanks to www.ex-audio.com for his sales!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Forza JUVE!
Barely a year after the scandal which rocked Italian football , and Juventus in particular, it is time to draw some conclusions from the (still ongoing) league. As expect by those who follow Juve, the team has played really well and is in third position.
Should the 'fairness' that so much has been touted about materialized, Juve would have been well on the way to reclaiming what is by rights, so deserved...ie..the title crown. Instead, it has been shown clearly that what happened during the Moggi era was nothing as suspicious as the media made out. Indecent refereeing has lost Juve surely ten points, and gifted Inter as much again.
One has to just take a look at the top-scorer table to note that in the top five, there are five Juve players from the team that used to 'win by telephone!'.
Should the 'fairness' that so much has been touted about materialized, Juve would have been well on the way to reclaiming what is by rights, so deserved...ie..the title crown. Instead, it has been shown clearly that what happened during the Moggi era was nothing as suspicious as the media made out. Indecent refereeing has lost Juve surely ten points, and gifted Inter as much again.
One has to just take a look at the top-scorer table to note that in the top five, there are five Juve players from the team that used to 'win by telephone!'.
Trezeguet, Del Piero, Ibrahimovic and Mutu have, this season, scored 66 goals between them, albeit with different teams. Makes you wonder eh? So yes, Juve will go down as the most successful 'newly-promoted-team' ever. Had to be. And with the current form of veteran Alex Del Piero, things are looking rosier all the time.
And for us Juve fans, it doesn't really matter where we play...our hearts are always worn on our sleeves...rigorously in black and white stripes!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
A bit of quiet...
April is usually a strange time here on our islands. I guess the weather plays an important part. The greenery all around us is still lush and verdant following the February rains, but the heat starts to set in at a most inappropriate manner.
Yes that's it...the weather. Sometimes in April it can be so cold and windy as to really bother you, and at times it so hot that it makes you wonder if we are already in summer.
The first week in April was surprisingly hot, with temperatures reaching up to 25 degrees, while what followed was a ten day period of dull weather with strong winds..VERY STRONG winds.
It is now a really nice breezy warm day that makes you want to grab a bottle of wine and a traditional Maltese Ftira, and make your way to the beach.
Speaking of which, me and my family have officially launched the swimming season. Every year we advance the time in which we take the plunge...and this year the date has been forwarded to the 13th of April. HAve written this down on our calendar, so maybe next year we can advance this too!
Cheers
Yes that's it...the weather. Sometimes in April it can be so cold and windy as to really bother you, and at times it so hot that it makes you wonder if we are already in summer.
The first week in April was surprisingly hot, with temperatures reaching up to 25 degrees, while what followed was a ten day period of dull weather with strong winds..VERY STRONG winds.
It is now a really nice breezy warm day that makes you want to grab a bottle of wine and a traditional Maltese Ftira, and make your way to the beach.
Speaking of which, me and my family have officially launched the swimming season. Every year we advance the time in which we take the plunge...and this year the date has been forwarded to the 13th of April. HAve written this down on our calendar, so maybe next year we can advance this too!
Cheers
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Easter Sunday Sadness
As the mournful music from the Pearl Harbor soundtrack washed over my senses, I reflected how unlucky I was not to have my father around me today, Easter Sunday.
I remember distinctly his preparation of the traditional Maltese figolla, preparing it in my favourite shape, that of an aeroplane, and then decorating it with chocolate and trimmings to make it look as real as possible.
I look back on all the times we used to go around the island, looking around the various churches resplendent with all the trappings of sorrow and resurrection, the two intertwined in our beliefs.
And then we used to celebrate Easter Sunday at our home town of Vittoriosa, running happily with the risen Christ by our side, not returning home until it was way past dinnertime and throats hoarse with all our shouting of joy.
And as I remembered these happy times, I could not resist looking through an ancient suitcase, replete with old and faded photographs of a time gone by.
And I weep.
I weep for the soul and the love of a man struck down in his prime.
I weep for all the children of the world who treat their parents as if they were nothing but a hindrance to their hustling and bustling lives.
In my tears I can feel his presence next to me, comforting me with the thought that eventually, like the risen Lord, we will meet once again sometime.
Yes, we will meet...and talk about life, love and family, and all the happenings we have gone through all the years we have been apart.
And I promise myself to continue loving my children just as he loved me in his day.
I remember distinctly his preparation of the traditional Maltese figolla, preparing it in my favourite shape, that of an aeroplane, and then decorating it with chocolate and trimmings to make it look as real as possible.
I look back on all the times we used to go around the island, looking around the various churches resplendent with all the trappings of sorrow and resurrection, the two intertwined in our beliefs.
And then we used to celebrate Easter Sunday at our home town of Vittoriosa, running happily with the risen Christ by our side, not returning home until it was way past dinnertime and throats hoarse with all our shouting of joy.
And as I remembered these happy times, I could not resist looking through an ancient suitcase, replete with old and faded photographs of a time gone by.
And I weep.
I weep for the soul and the love of a man struck down in his prime.
I weep for all the children of the world who treat their parents as if they were nothing but a hindrance to their hustling and bustling lives.
In my tears I can feel his presence next to me, comforting me with the thought that eventually, like the risen Lord, we will meet once again sometime.
Yes, we will meet...and talk about life, love and family, and all the happenings we have gone through all the years we have been apart.
And I promise myself to continue loving my children just as he loved me in his day.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
A change in format.
Just a short note. I decided to change the format a bit. The main reason was that the original one, which I really liked, had a limitation on the column width. A nice, clean simple one is just right. Please also do take your time to vote on my poll on the right. Adverts are also making an appearance. I have so many visits that it only makes (ad)sense to earn a bit of cash for my humble efforts.
Finally everything is done and dusted...
A week has passed since the day Malta paused to vote for the next legislation's leaders, and as I suspected, the Nationalist Party has won again. A narrow margin, to be true, but a victory nonetheless. As far as I can remember, since 1976 to this day, there has only been one Labour majority, and that was in 1996, when it was followed by a very short but intense(ly disruptive) twenty-two months of misguided leadership.
So, now that the dust has settled, I am attempting to write down a bit of what has been going on.
Saturday:
---------
93% of the voters turned out to vote on what was a really cold and wet day. I don't think that the rain stopped at all, or if it did, it was only to give us some respite. The figure was a low one which augured well for the MLP but not the PN. You see, there are certain causes that the parties are not willing to officially state their case upon, but are known anyhow. Everybody knows that mostly PN is against Spring Hunting, and have been so since the start. MLP, on the other hand, while not saying that they will ban hunting in spring, have quietly announced that they will follow the EU's directive on this ban. Now, I have friends in the know who say that the Trapper's association is mostly Labour supporters with a minority of nationalists, but still reaching the 35% mark. These guys don't just vote themselves, they even COERCE their spouses and children to vote for their cause...so yes, I can say that the nationalists lost a huge number of votes from the trapping section.
There was also the case of the JPO 'ordeal', as he was accused of screwing about on an area of land which is outside building permit boundaries.(I don't know who is right or wrong here, but a LOT of voters lost their nerve because of this.)
This caused a bit of concern, because the last time round PN had a 12k vote cushion. So, with 5k votes not being picked up and another 4k lost through the trappers doing, the advantage had slipped down to a bare minimum of 2k votes. Hardly enough to rest your head on the pillow without thinking about it.
The polling booths remained open up to 11pm instead of 10pm, due to the inclement weather and the local councils election voting. Fine by me.
So 93% it was, with Labour already daring to proclaim a hopeful victory.
Sunday:
--------
If anybody asks me to spell the word 'tense' for him, it would go like this...'S-U-N-D-A-Y' .. There you go...'tense'.
The ballot boxes were still being opened and the votes being put face-down by 10am , but in the vicinity of Paola, a huge noise of fireworks, car-horns and whistles was being heard. I stared in amazement when I got up on the roof to see what was happening.
There in the middle of the square, it was jam-packed with Labour supporters, celebrating a victory which was still not even plausible, let alone probable!
I called a mate of mine, 'K' to enquire what was going on.
K - 'It's a whitewash...17,000 to 22,000 advantage to us, we're going to celebrate.'
Me- 'How can that be? The ballot boxes are not even all open yet!'
K - 'Already worked out man. Jas told me.'
And that my friends, is the Labour mentality.
How can even one begin to celebrate a mighty victory when the match hasn't even started? How can one proclaim a victory against a formidable football team when you are still in the dressing rooms? And how, for God's sake can one shout about an election victory when the votes have not been counted yet? Yes...a Labour mentality.
Obviously, within a couple of hours at 12.30 came the cold shock I had been waiting for. Official sampling results had been creeping out. The nationalists were 2000 votes to the good. I stepped out on the roof again...
Ah...all was silent again on the Labour front.
Not for long though. I could see the Nationalist Party club being thrown wide open with people jumping up and down and screaming in delight. But this time the laughter and celebrations did not die out.
I can say that our little island held its breath in a collective effort, as even more samples were being taken and discarded as being 'too close to call'.
Finally, on TV I could see the PN supporters at the counting hall in Naxxar erupting in joy and banging against the perspex partitions. I felt immediately that victory had finally arrived. Not because Dr.Gonzi had been elected in that particular district, but the amount of votes he garnered made sure that there was no way his party could be reached.
I slumped down on my chair, worn out with fatigue and relief. Funny really, because I have never ever been a political creature. Also I am of the firm opinion of having alternate governments every 7-8 years. But there's something I don't like at all about labour. More on that later too...
Finally at 9.22 sharp, PN spokesman Joe Saliba uttered the magic words we have all been waiting for.'From first indications, it seems that the Nationalist Party have won the election.'
That was that! I must confess to dancing and jumping with relief. We all went down to Paola after that, to witness celebrations galore. After all the tension, the people had a right to enjoy themselves and let out steam.
Monday:
--------
Shhh.....the sheer silence of a country suffering from post-dramatic stress disorder.
I refused to let an election disrupt my work habits, so I went to work just like any normal day. And here is where I feel our population has to mature. Okay, we might get carried away with our enthusiasm, but after all is said and done, it is just a democratic selection by the people. I'm sure that the MLP want as much improvement for the Maltese people as the Nationalists. It's just the way some differences crop up and are tackled that is the real issue here.
So yes, it was a very quiet day, even here at work, where the relief was palpable. Our 'traditional' daily walk around the industrial was eerily different. Damn...even the guard dogs were silent today. Nary a car in the entire estate, except our car-park.
Meanwhile around Pieta' tens of thousands of PN supporters gathered around the party headquarters to render homage to their leader and yet another victory.
At last it was all over bar the shouting...or the swearing-in. That was on Tuesday.
Wow...what a long post...hehe...and I still haven't written in with my opinions yet...but I think I will leave that out for today. I will post later on in the day or tomorrow, when I have gathered some more musings.
As always....keep METAL \m/
So, now that the dust has settled, I am attempting to write down a bit of what has been going on.
Saturday:
---------
93% of the voters turned out to vote on what was a really cold and wet day. I don't think that the rain stopped at all, or if it did, it was only to give us some respite. The figure was a low one which augured well for the MLP but not the PN. You see, there are certain causes that the parties are not willing to officially state their case upon, but are known anyhow. Everybody knows that mostly PN is against Spring Hunting, and have been so since the start. MLP, on the other hand, while not saying that they will ban hunting in spring, have quietly announced that they will follow the EU's directive on this ban. Now, I have friends in the know who say that the Trapper's association is mostly Labour supporters with a minority of nationalists, but still reaching the 35% mark. These guys don't just vote themselves, they even COERCE their spouses and children to vote for their cause...so yes, I can say that the nationalists lost a huge number of votes from the trapping section.
There was also the case of the JPO 'ordeal', as he was accused of screwing about on an area of land which is outside building permit boundaries.(I don't know who is right or wrong here, but a LOT of voters lost their nerve because of this.)
This caused a bit of concern, because the last time round PN had a 12k vote cushion. So, with 5k votes not being picked up and another 4k lost through the trappers doing, the advantage had slipped down to a bare minimum of 2k votes. Hardly enough to rest your head on the pillow without thinking about it.
The polling booths remained open up to 11pm instead of 10pm, due to the inclement weather and the local councils election voting. Fine by me.
So 93% it was, with Labour already daring to proclaim a hopeful victory.
Sunday:
--------
If anybody asks me to spell the word 'tense' for him, it would go like this...'S-U-N-D-A-Y' .. There you go...'tense'.
The ballot boxes were still being opened and the votes being put face-down by 10am , but in the vicinity of Paola, a huge noise of fireworks, car-horns and whistles was being heard. I stared in amazement when I got up on the roof to see what was happening.
There in the middle of the square, it was jam-packed with Labour supporters, celebrating a victory which was still not even plausible, let alone probable!
I called a mate of mine, 'K' to enquire what was going on.
K - 'It's a whitewash...17,000 to 22,000 advantage to us, we're going to celebrate.'
Me- 'How can that be? The ballot boxes are not even all open yet!'
K - 'Already worked out man. Jas told me.'
And that my friends, is the Labour mentality.
How can even one begin to celebrate a mighty victory when the match hasn't even started? How can one proclaim a victory against a formidable football team when you are still in the dressing rooms? And how, for God's sake can one shout about an election victory when the votes have not been counted yet? Yes...a Labour mentality.
Obviously, within a couple of hours at 12.30 came the cold shock I had been waiting for. Official sampling results had been creeping out. The nationalists were 2000 votes to the good. I stepped out on the roof again...
Ah...all was silent again on the Labour front.
Not for long though. I could see the Nationalist Party club being thrown wide open with people jumping up and down and screaming in delight. But this time the laughter and celebrations did not die out.
I can say that our little island held its breath in a collective effort, as even more samples were being taken and discarded as being 'too close to call'.
Finally, on TV I could see the PN supporters at the counting hall in Naxxar erupting in joy and banging against the perspex partitions. I felt immediately that victory had finally arrived. Not because Dr.Gonzi had been elected in that particular district, but the amount of votes he garnered made sure that there was no way his party could be reached.
I slumped down on my chair, worn out with fatigue and relief. Funny really, because I have never ever been a political creature. Also I am of the firm opinion of having alternate governments every 7-8 years. But there's something I don't like at all about labour. More on that later too...
Finally at 9.22 sharp, PN spokesman Joe Saliba uttered the magic words we have all been waiting for.'From first indications, it seems that the Nationalist Party have won the election.'
That was that! I must confess to dancing and jumping with relief. We all went down to Paola after that, to witness celebrations galore. After all the tension, the people had a right to enjoy themselves and let out steam.
Monday:
--------
Shhh.....the sheer silence of a country suffering from post-dramatic stress disorder.
I refused to let an election disrupt my work habits, so I went to work just like any normal day. And here is where I feel our population has to mature. Okay, we might get carried away with our enthusiasm, but after all is said and done, it is just a democratic selection by the people. I'm sure that the MLP want as much improvement for the Maltese people as the Nationalists. It's just the way some differences crop up and are tackled that is the real issue here.
So yes, it was a very quiet day, even here at work, where the relief was palpable. Our 'traditional' daily walk around the industrial was eerily different. Damn...even the guard dogs were silent today. Nary a car in the entire estate, except our car-park.
Meanwhile around Pieta' tens of thousands of PN supporters gathered around the party headquarters to render homage to their leader and yet another victory.
At last it was all over bar the shouting...or the swearing-in. That was on Tuesday.
Wow...what a long post...hehe...and I still haven't written in with my opinions yet...but I think I will leave that out for today. I will post later on in the day or tomorrow, when I have gathered some more musings.
As always....keep METAL \m/
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Decision time is now!
Election fever is gripping the island, and hopefully everyone has decided on which colour to splash out.
I say hopefully..because I have not decided yet.
Some pros and cons:
I have been into a website in which I have been amazed by the negative feedback left by so many people. It is unbelievable how these people leave such stupid comments.
I don't think that they are broke or barefoot, but simply see negativeness everywhere...deciding to neglect all the good that has really been built the past years.
Let us put colour aside and think about it for a while. It’s true not everything is heaven but the difference from the old labour days to the present hows and how.
Modern technology, schools, airport, hospitals, environment (more on that later), freedom of buying, freedom of speech, computers, internet, education and ... I won't be able to stop. The roads have long been the bane of our country. So let me tell you this. Start your journey from where I live in Tarxien, near Mintoff. Drive along the S.Lucia road, down to Qormi, up the bypass, to Zebbug, and the Mtarfa bypass, then all the way to Gozo...and if you find a pothole I'll buy you a beer!
People along the years chose PN for this change which we see till this present day. It’s black on white. Things can't be done by magic, they need sacrifices and support from all.
Now on the other hand PN have done some major damage. In my opinion, the environment has not yet been given the real attention it is due. Okay, there has been a huge improvement.. but there is still loads to be done.
1. Contractors... STOP THEIR PERMITS! How many houses are still empty in Malta? THOUSANDS. So...before some of these houses are sold, no permits will be issued.
2. Hunters/Trappers... For the sake of a little amount, the larger amount is precluded from enjoying the spring as it is meant to be. This has to stop. I wish they would break the law like they promised... spend some time behind bars, just like the FREE birds they ensnare.
3. JPO... everyone knows who he is no? For the almighty dollar I would never have imagined you would stoop so low! Shame on you. Off with your head matey!
Okay, now on to labour...which has not really had a decent majority since 1976..unbelievable but true. The only other majority was in the histori 96 elections when they were elected but unable to hold on to the post, despite having a 7000 majority. This was unfair as the amount should have given them two seats of advantage.
What's new with Labour? I am being honest now. Nothing new. Same old faces, doing the same old jobs, grabbing the same money from our pockets like the PN.
Sure, we might ge back the 5 days leave taken from our pocket by the blues. Sant also mentioned that the surcharge would be slashed to half....(I definitely recall him saying that it would be removed)..now we are down to half. Repeater classes..THEY ARE repeater classes...
Ok, now is the time to give somebody else a chance....now is the time to elect a third party to parliament.
Now is the time to go Green!
Think before you vote! Give green at least no.2
I say hopefully..because I have not decided yet.
Some pros and cons:
I have been into a website in which I have been amazed by the negative feedback left by so many people. It is unbelievable how these people leave such stupid comments.
I don't think that they are broke or barefoot, but simply see negativeness everywhere...deciding to neglect all the good that has really been built the past years.
Let us put colour aside and think about it for a while. It’s true not everything is heaven but the difference from the old labour days to the present hows and how.
Modern technology, schools, airport, hospitals, environment (more on that later), freedom of buying, freedom of speech, computers, internet, education and ... I won't be able to stop. The roads have long been the bane of our country. So let me tell you this. Start your journey from where I live in Tarxien, near Mintoff. Drive along the S.Lucia road, down to Qormi, up the bypass, to Zebbug, and the Mtarfa bypass, then all the way to Gozo...and if you find a pothole I'll buy you a beer!
People along the years chose PN for this change which we see till this present day. It’s black on white. Things can't be done by magic, they need sacrifices and support from all.
Now on the other hand PN have done some major damage. In my opinion, the environment has not yet been given the real attention it is due. Okay, there has been a huge improvement.. but there is still loads to be done.
1. Contractors... STOP THEIR PERMITS! How many houses are still empty in Malta? THOUSANDS. So...before some of these houses are sold, no permits will be issued.
2. Hunters/Trappers... For the sake of a little amount, the larger amount is precluded from enjoying the spring as it is meant to be. This has to stop. I wish they would break the law like they promised... spend some time behind bars, just like the FREE birds they ensnare.
3. JPO... everyone knows who he is no? For the almighty dollar I would never have imagined you would stoop so low! Shame on you. Off with your head matey!
Okay, now on to labour...which has not really had a decent majority since 1976..unbelievable but true. The only other majority was in the histori 96 elections when they were elected but unable to hold on to the post, despite having a 7000 majority. This was unfair as the amount should have given them two seats of advantage.
What's new with Labour? I am being honest now. Nothing new. Same old faces, doing the same old jobs, grabbing the same money from our pockets like the PN.
Sure, we might ge back the 5 days leave taken from our pocket by the blues. Sant also mentioned that the surcharge would be slashed to half....(I definitely recall him saying that it would be removed)..now we are down to half. Repeater classes..THEY ARE repeater classes...
Ok, now is the time to give somebody else a chance....now is the time to elect a third party to parliament.
Now is the time to go Green!
Think before you vote! Give green at least no.2
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