As I sit at the laptop writing this I really long for an Air New Zealand bean bag. Who ever decided to introduce such a clever idea should have been rewarded with a knighthood at least. Instead of the sometimes strange, sometimes awkward, occasionally downright uncomfortable footrests airlines build into their passenger seats, ANZ provide a purple bean bag. It’s lightweight, has no sharp corners to bang ankles or stub toes on, and you can kick and shove it into the perfect shape and position for you. I need one here, now.
With clean clothes I ventured forth on public transport to Valletta. My first shock was to see youngsters (of both sexes) offering up their seats on the crowded bus to ladies – and men – of advancing years. This wasn’t an occasional thing, it was 100% across the board. How refreshing!
The second shock was the awfulness of the modernisation of Kingsgate, now called something else, the entrance to Valletta. The grand archway has gone, and the stalls of fresh Maltese bread which used to be set up in the shade of that vast archway are now on the outside of the city entrance. And the crisp, crusted loaves now sweat inside their plastic wrappings. I know it’s a health and hygiene thing, but for centuries the Maltese have been eating crusty bread so why impose this leathery stuff on them now?
Columns at the site of the new Opera House. I’m sure someone must like this strange, stark rebuild.
The third shock was the Opera House. This was bombed in (I think) 1942 and the ruins had remained, a stark reminder of man’s ability to smash the playthings of others, for some seventy-odd years, quite untouched. Now it is sort of half rebuilt, yet not. It has a couple of new pillars which stick up like posts hastily driven into the ground for no particular reason. On the floor are tiers of bright green plastic chairs, impossibly garish. Tell me this is not how it will always be. Tell me this is a half-way measure, a fill-in until proper rebuilding can be completed. Please…