Grande Vittoria

Siamo andati a Roma. Abbiamo guardato intorno. Cinquantamile tifosi Romanisti...e quattro mila fedeli Juventini. E li abbiamo battuti. Conquistata la terra dell'Olimpico.

Grande partita di tutta la squadra, con un punto di diamante come Diego. Due reti, tanti assist. Grande giocate. Fenomeno.

Altra rete di Felipe Melo, cuore indomabile della difesa bianconera. Grande prova.

Calcio samba, Calcio vincente. E siamo primi,

Juve, grazie di esistere!

Saturday football marathon

Sunday today, and it should be a day of rest. Unfortunately I have a mild cold that yesterday prevented me from enjoying what is about the only worthwhile day of the week. Saturday. So I turned to the TV set and the newly-restarted football leagues to watch the footy.

Things started rolling with the Formula1 qualifiers actually, but I managed to nod off during the last valid section for the top ten. Damn. Next up it was the Chelsea-Burnley match, which I did not elect to watch.

My favourites were on next. Tottenham against Birmingham. With the Spurs winning every match this year so far, it seemed to be a fair bet for an easy victory. At least on paper. What turned out to be had me and my daughter in tears right up to the very end.

A very tense (and domineering) first half performance ended goalless, and it looked as if the City Blues could easily hold on for a draw. That is, until Harry Redknapp unleashed Peter Crouch onto the field of play. The lanky forward showed the way to go and a number of chances started coming our way. Finally the deadlock was broken in the seventy-second minute. Crouch rose above the defence to power a header beyond Cooke’s reach. No more than Spurs deserved, and despite having a sore throat and all, our shouting was at fever pitch for the goal. Phew, what a relief!

But as a Spurs fan, one has to suffer, and suffer we did. Barely three minutes had passed, and the Blues were level. Another mix-up in defence, and Cudicini hesitated, before giving Birmingham an easy tap-in to score. 1-1. And we have to do it all over again. And this time in fifteen minutes.

Spurs not only did not manage to look too dangerous, but City had a glorious chance to win the match, but O’Connor managed to fluff the ball wide of the goal after a pass by Benitez.

On 88 minutes Jermain Defoe (who wasted innumerable chances) went to the ground injured and Russian international Roman Pavlyuchenko was drafted in to replace him. Still no go. The Russian giant barely touched the ball until the dying seconds.

94th minute and City were going forward, with ex-Spurs Steven Carr slipping on the ball. Tom Huddlestone nipped forward to take the ball off him, and pass it towards the Russian. Roman dribbled past two players before finding Aaron ‘Speedy Gonzales’ Lennon on the far left. The winger skipped nimbly past two defenders before allowing the ball to settle on his favourite right foot and slide it in beyond the reach of goalkeeper Cooke.

Ecstasy, Pure Joy, and of course much shouting at the last play of a match we thouroughly deserved to win. There we were, me, Roxy and Nunu, all jumping for joy, and my throat even more sore than before. Ah…the beauty of football. So exciting and unpredictable.

The next match was Man.Utd-Arsenal. That finished 2-1, with the Gunners feeling thoroughly peeved at the way they managed to lose a match they should have won easily. United are nothing without Cristiano Ronaldo, and trying to play Giggs in the same way as CR is such a wrong move. Suffice to say United won by a goal coming from a penalty and a ‘classic own goal’ by Arsenal defender Diaby…inexplicably, the defender, left alone, misjudged wildly his header, sending a bullet past team-mate Almunia in the Gunners goal.

The big match was then on at the Stadio Giuseppe Meazza in Italy. Two giants, Inter and Milan taking on each other in the ‘Derby della Madonnina’. Expectations ran high for this match, and things indicated it was going to be too close to call. As usual, Inter had no Italians in their side, while Milan had six. (In the two matches between English sides described above, there were barely ten … mostly in the Spurs squad!)

Anyway, back to the match. This was a whitewash. Inter dominated a hapless Milan from the start. Milan’s weak link this year is surely coach Leonardo. I never really fancied him as a player, let alone as a coach! He is so hopeless. Adding Kaka’s goodbye was then nothing short of disastrous. The scoreline? 4-0, with the first half finishing already 3-0 and Gattuso sent off for Milan. His injury hampered him and showed Leonardo’s inexperience in not preparing Seedorf for an immediate change. Between being injured and being substituted, a whole three minutes had passed. An eternity in football! Thus it was that following a late challenge on Sneijder , Gattuso was sent off! What a shambles.

Inter selected not to inflict too much injury to Milan, as they backed off their pace a bit, but managing to score again by Stankovic, who it seems, sees red every time he plays against Milan.

And now….I’m off to bed…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAchoooo.

Damn that was good!

What a weekend it turned out!

Aaaaargh...Ten in the morning and I'm still feeling pretty stoned this morning. That's what happens to people who still insist on partying at my age.

I slowly creak out of bed, before dumping some six bottles of beer into the loo via a complicated system known as peeing.

OK..so what happened? A rocking weekend. That's what. It all started on Friday evening. St.Maria band club in Ghaxaq splashed a fantastic sum of money (or so I heard) to bring the Queen Rhapsody UK tribute band to Malta. So me and the wife were at Ghaxaq by 8pm, in the hope of securing a place at the front. Nothing doing...it was already jam-packed.

Naturally there were a couple of supporting acts that went down really well. First off, one of my favourite Maltese bands, Myth, bashed out an acoustic set that showed the real talent this band has - preparation, stage presence, and musical realisation. And humility.

Yep. Dion is ever so humble in accepting praises for the band, or the songs they write. But it's ever so true. Together with Karen, Patrick and Mark, they have been releasing songs like there's no tomorrow. And perhaps not surprisingly, songs that have been taken well by a receptive Maltese audience. What's more, they have been doing this for yonks!!!

Sometimes I wonder to what heights these guys would have gone had sponsorship money been available to them...

The second band to play was the 'Joe Brown Band'. Let me tell you in a few words. These guys are pros. Real pros. First off they had Eleanor Cassar take up the singing duties, and I was gob-smacked at the power in this little lady's voice. Absolutely amazing. Needless to say, most of the tracks were cover versions, but far from being easy, I would say doing a cover and doing it well is the epitome of perfection.

Eleanor also sang her Eurovision entry, and not for the first time, I wondered what made the people and jury vote for Chiara. Stupendous. Eleanor is another shy and humble girl away from the stage. When I talked to her about certain decisions, she shyly hung her head to the right and answered 'I will try harder next time.' No remorse or anger or cynical remarks. Another winner that I wish would have more air-time and sponsorship available...but where on earth does she hide that incredible voice in such a tiny frame?

Mark and Aldo of Lord Adder fame then took the stage, and the crowd went wild as they belted one rock tune after another...Smoke on the Water, Hotel California, You give love a bad name, and of course, something also from their favourites.. Beatles and CCR. I remember first seeing Lord Adder live way back in err... 1985 I guess....and like me, they never grew up! Absolutely great show. Obviously Joe Brown himself is nothing short of amazing. What a guy!

By this time the crowd had swelled to incredible proportions. There was simply no more space in the road and in the side streets. I had a great position....Exit Stage Left, and I could see clearly down to the bottom, and it was bedlam when Mark and Aldo sang Hotel California. Who hasn't heard of this great track? So the Ghaxqin, together with a huge contingent of 'outsiders' sang with much gusto... awaiting the arrival of Rhapsody.

And the Queen tribute band were greeted with fireworks as they made their way on to the stage. The following ninety minutes were a frenzy of inimitable music as written by the great band themselves. Rhapsody were nothing short of jaw-dropping as they belted one hit after another. The Ghaxaq crowd literally exploded as song after song unfolded, everybody chanting with the chorus and generally having a great time. The singer's 'Viva Santa Maria' then threw out a roar of epic proportions... I thought the band was technically very impressive. The bassist played with incredible gusto all round, and I feel he is the cornerstone of the guys, although in truth, nobody disappointed. The singer's voice war remarkably close to the great one's, and wisely kept from singing tones he could not reach. Maturity and professionalism.

The guys finished with 'We are the champions' naturally, and for the Santa Maria Band fans, this was the epitome of a great show, fireworks thundering in the sky above, people in their thousands chanting and holding their hands in the air. Spine-chilling. Finally it was time to take a bow, and with a gigantic 'Viva Santa Maria' banner held by the band, the crowd were whipped into a frenzy... this, my friends, is what ROCK music is all about.

An absolutely great evening! Thank you Ghaxaq! Viva Santa Maria!

Yep, so that was Friday...I think it was 2am by the time we arrived home!

SATURDAY evening.

What could be better than a rock festival. TWO rock festivals of course.

Around 8pm we left home to make our way to Ta'Qali National Park arena, where a feast of Rock and Metal was about to ensue. the guest stars this time? Nothing but 'Kiss Forever Band'.

Unfortunately the time constraints we had did not enable us to listen to 'The Red Labels'...damn. We started off by Estrella, a Scottish band I admit I had not heard of, but these guys are damn good! I enjoyed their show...I enjoyed it a lot. This band is a five-piece classic rock-blues band that has great stage impact. I am certainly going to look out for them!

Next up were our mighty FIRE!!! God I love this band. Up there with Myth as my all-time favourites. I don't think I will waste too many scrapes and bows here. The guys know I admire their music a lot, as of course, do many more real hard-rock fans locally. Fire gave us their repertoire from their debut album 'Ignite', as well as tantalising fare from 'Thrill Me' , their new effort.

People, don't take my word for it...just go and get this CD. Hehe...how many nights has Robert stayed up listening to this one as he produced it?

Next up were Reborn. I have to be brutally honest here. This band had grabbed my attention two years ago when we took part in the RockBAZE competition, and I seriously thought they would be in the top two. This time however, I thought they were disastrous. The brashness of the lead guitar made listening to what was being played nigh-on impossible. The sound was actually coming through as one indistinct lump. The covers the band played? Shockingly bad. For next time then.

Okay, then up to the main attraction, greeting the band with the now infamous 'You wanted the best...you GOT the best....' Only God knows how long I wondered if I ever would hear that live. The band in question is the Hungarian 'Kiss Forever Band'... but damn me they are frikkin good.

A good tastes and selection of music was played for the now large-ish and VERY enthusiastic crowd...crowd pleasers, such as - I was made for Loving you , Detroit Rock City, Rock n' Roll all night, Beth, Strutter, Firehouse, Love Gun, Cold Gin, Doctor of Love, Shout it out loud and a host of others...

This band has now visited its' 21st country, Malta, and the fans here could not be happier that this Hungarian quartet has been here to play. I must admit to being superbly impressed...

Looking around me I could see pensioners, AND children, painted up as Space Ace, or the Cat, and it made me smile, at how the power of rock can bring people of all ages together. After all, the pensioners were still 20-something back then when KISS started playing. Fathers and mothers all painted up towing their now teenage offspring with them...also painted up.

I enjoyed myself supremely throughout the whole set...and we only arrived home at 3am... So no wonder I am stonked out! Anybody wanting the pics from the show are free to ask for them on the email above!

LONG LIVE ROCK 'N ROLL!

Beep Beep.....

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.

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.

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.

Gigantic Aircraft

Truly Spectacular

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!

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.

(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'.

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.

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!

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.

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!

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!

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...

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!

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!

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!'.

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!

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