Malta 2006 - Day 14

Pauline did the breakfast vanishing trick this morning. In the blink of an eye and with masterly sleight of hand two rolls vanished from the table and mysteriously re-appeared behind my left ear. She tried again. That’s better; there they were carefully tucked away in her bag.

We realised early on in the holiday that the hotel’s house wine which is a popular Maltese brand could be bought in any supermarket for half the price the hotel was charging so after the first few days we didn’t bother to queue up in the bar for the soppy girl to give us our chitty, we just bought the bottles in from the nearest supermarket and strolled into the dining room as if we’d just got them from the bar.

The big bloke was next to me at the computer internet desks this morning. “I can’t get this icon of a smoking gun to come up on my e-mails,” he said.

“I’ll set the text gun,” I said.

Down by the pool it was now 12.30 p.m. and the two sun beds next to me had been unoccupied since before we arrived at 9 a.m. They had a couple of towels draped over them and were in a prime position in the shade of one of the big umbrellas. My bed was in full sun and I needed some shade for a while. Oh this is ridiculous. I’m laying here feeling too hot for comfort and there are two sun beds right next to me in the shade completely unused and smirking at me. Oh sod it. I took the towel off one of the unoccupied beds, replaced it with mine and put their towel on my bed. I don’t know who the bed belongs to and quite frankly I don’t give a damn. I don’t know when they’ll turn up or what might occur when they do but why shouldn’t these beds be used? Pauline looked up and said, “What are you doing?”

“Look,” I said, “these invisible people haven’t paid rent for this area of shade. They don’t own the rights to these six square feet. A towel is not a mortgage deposit. What can they possibly say in their defence if they turn up? OK, I’ll use some of that old give and take that these people have obviously not heard of. Look, I’ll move one of their beds out of the way and over to the other side. That way it’s still just about in the shade but I can move my bed across.”

“There’s no need for that,” said Pauline, “look, there’s some shade across here to the other side of me.”

“Yes but that’s not the point is it?” I said, “these bloody ignorant people haven’t been here since the crack of dawn when they reserved this area for their future use at sometime…anytime…and to hell with everybody else. It’s just not right.”

“Look, I’ve moved your bed into the shade next to me. It’s fine now. It’s not worth making a scene,” said Pauline as she patted my arm. Translated into the sort of language these inconsiderate cretins would understand, what she’d said was, “Leave it John, ‘e’s not worf it.”

And that’s what happened.

I didn’t take.

I gave.

But I was so obsessed by these invisible people by then, all I could do was keep glaring across at the empty beds for the rest of the day muttering under my breath and developing a twitch in one eye.

1 p.m. and they haven’t turned up.

2 p.m. and they haven’t turned up.

3 p.m. and they still haven’t turned up.

4 p.m. and they still haven’t turned up.

4.15 p.m. and they, oh, they’ve just turned up.

Right. I got up and said to Pauline in a loud voice, “”Oh look they’ve decided to turn up. How charming of them to have stopped anyone from using these beds for over eight bloody hours so they can stroll up and have the use of them for the last hour or so of the day. They certainly know how to behave well in public places don’t they, the selfish, ignorant bastards.”

I turned around to glare at them but they were oblivious to me.

They were both laying there reading books – in Russian.

Bugger!

TRUE LIFT STORY NO. 8

On our way down to dinner the lift stopped and two couples got in. there was a bit of confusion over whether they’d all get in without causing the lift to overload but they finally got in and the doors closed. “Och, ye dinna ken oot to brau wee elk eh?” one man said. “Och, e’ll tak tha’ as a insul’” said a woman and everybody laughed.

Yes, you’ve guessed it. They were Scottish.

The other woman, a wizened looking soul with a pasty face from somewhere that doesn’t get much sun said, “Ye brau wee elk oot o’ tha’ mon dinna ken hen ken hen bricht aboot eh?” and then she cackled a bit while looking at me.

Oh dear here we go again.

I smiled, nodded and looked over at Pauline for help but this time she completely ignored me. I started to re-run the Jimmy Shand White Heather Club Hogmanay Specials in my head to dredge up some Scottish phrases I’d heard all those years ago.

“An’ a happy gud yearrrrr to one an’ all wi’ yer kilt a-skirlin’ an’ yer sporran a-bouncin’,” I said while executing a nimble heel-toe, heel-toe movement with my feet and my arms held aloft, “Gud luck to ye. Where’s the dark haired mon wi’ the whisky an’ the coal?”

The lift doors finally opened and we all fell out. On the way into the dining room I grabbed a table cloth and wrapped it round my waist, rolled my trousers up, linked arms with a waiter and the maitre d’ and Gay Gordoned down towards the buffet table.

“Och I’ll be havin’ a wee doch ‘n’ doris if yer dinna mind,” I cried as I passed a waitress by the salad bar, “Neeps an’ tatties fer me tonicht hen, none o’ tha’ Sassenach rubbish d’ye ken?”

With a Military Two-Step and a Dipsy Doodle under my belt I made my way back to our table pausing briefly to give a Glasgee kiss to the little bloke who’d been annoying me all week, and sat down.

“Auchtermuchty forever,” I shouted.

Looking round I saw one of the Scotsmen who’d been in the lift sitting at the next table.

“Ah see ye’ve got a bottle o’ whisky, a piece o’ coal an’ some Dundee shortbread,” I said, “ye’ll be all ready for some first footin’ tonicht then?”

The man looked at me strangely and said, “Tha’s ma dinner.”

I couldn’t help noticing that he had a brick tied to his right wrist and asked him what it was for. He said, “Ah’m buildin’ up ma drinkin’ arrrm.”

“Well,” I said, “tonicht’s the nicht the noo.”

“Aye,” he said, “tonicht’s the nicht we toast the arrival o’ the New Year. Scots all overrrrr the worrrrrld will be raisin’ their buckets. Aye, ah’m in the mood fer an old traditional Scottish folk song. It’s aboot a proud Scot who lives abroad. It’s called ‘Hands off ma sporran if yer foreign’. Ma wife loves tha’ one. I met ma wife at Hogmanay too. Ah rememberrrrr whisperin’ those three magic words in ‘er ear, “Dundee United won.”

“I know,” I said anxious to change the subject, “let’s be a singin’ tha’ song you Scots all sing at New Year. Old something?

“’Old ma ‘and ah’m sozzled?”

“No,” I said, “the other one. Neverrrr mind, how will ye be a-spendin’ Hogmanay tonicht?”

“Unconcious. But just before ah go oot ah always practises mah safety drill.”

“Wha’s tha’? “ I said.

“How to fall overrrr wi’out breakin’ mah whisky bottle an’ I neverrrrr forget the quaint expression mah dear old mam taught me to say to strangers at Hogmanay.”

“Och aye,” I said.

“Aye,” he said, “buy us a drink or I’ll ‘ave yer bum made into a sporran.”

Trying to change the subject again I said, “How aboot Christmas? D’ye have the same Christmas traditions in Scotland? You know, like mistletoe…?”

“Och aye, we eat tha’,” he said.

“An’ wha’ aboot turkey fer Christmas dinnerrrrrr?” I said.

“Och aye, but no too much otherwise we’d ‘ave no room fer the mince an’ tatties.”

“So you celebrate Christmas much the same in Scotland then?” I said.

“Aye, the tree, turkey, crackers, decorations…..Jimmy Claus.” As he spoke he reached under the table and brought out a large wooden box. “But dinna worrrrry aboot me,” he said, “this chest here is ma complete Hogmanay drinking kit. Inside ah’ve got this package which ah’d like ye to look afterrrr fer me. It’s mah bail money ferrr the mornin’. The other things ah’m takking wi’ me are some glasses, a few lemons….”

“Lemons?” I said, “is tha’ fer gin an’ tonics?”

“Nooo tha’s fer throwin’ at the barman when ah’m too drunk to speak. But this is mah most valuable part of ma Hogmanay drinkin’ kit. It’s a tankard. Aye, it plays a tape if it’s noo picked up every thirty seconds. It says, “Ah’m overrrr herrrrrre, ah’m overrrrr herrrre.”