Malta 2006 - Day 7

We took the bus to Mdina today.

As we got off the bus and were getting our bearings a man who looked and dressed like a bank manager approached us and tried to sell us some tourist guide books of the city. What kind of a job is that for a grown man dressed in a respectable white shirt, tie, pressed black trousers and shiny black shoes? He should be managing his bank not ducking and diving outside the walls of Mdina.

The old medieval walled city is under constant renovation and although it doesn’t take too long to wander around the streets and squares you could turn it into a day trip if you wanted to spend money on entering every available building that was open to the public. We kept it down to a few hours.

Wandering aimlessly around with the temperature in the upper nineties we caught up with a small parade of people dressed in medieval garb marching through the narrow streets to the slow beat of a solitary drum. They were wearing heavy woollen tunics, cloaks, hats, thick woollen tights and numerous other items of clothing more suited to winter than summer. Jesus, they must have been hot. They finally came to a halt in one of the city squares and lined up facing the large open space. The solitary drummer was joined by a couple of others and as the drums started to beat a quicker tempo a character stepped forward playing what looked like a medieval set of bagpipes which gave the impression that he had a dead sheep slung over his shoulders. We were then treated to a display by ten blokes who juggled with huge flags on six foot poles, generally jumping about, chucking them in the air and at each other for a mind-boggling twenty minutes or so in the full glare of the ninety degree sun bearing down on them. And were they sweating!

Back at the hotel in the evening and we were on our balcony with a drink and a book being forced to listen to the nightly entertainment. We have no choice in this. It’s taking place below us in the pool area just around the corner of the hotel so luckily we can’t actually see it, thank God. It stops at midnight so we have to endure the sound until then…or go out. Every night the entertainment is exactly the bloody same but performed by somebody different. All these so-called entertainers do is sing a load of old fifties and sixties songs every night in such a listless manner that you can’t tell one song from another half the time. As I write this I can hear a God-awful version of Act Naturally – “Come on everyone sing – All you gotta do is act naturally.” It makes Ringo Starr’s version sound almost good and that’s saying something. Jesus, now they’re onto Amarillo. I can’t stand much more of this. Time to get the Ipod headphones on I think.

TRUE LIFT STORY NO. 3

A Northern bloke walked into the lift just as a Northern woman was walking out. They both did the business of moving the same way side to side a few times before stumbling past each other laughing uncontrollably. “Shall we dance?” the woman screamed hysterically.

“Oh don’t, stop it, you’re crackin’ me oop,” the man shouted with tears in his eyes.

We waited for the next lift.