Last Day

You know when you've been at a computer too long when...you're doing your make up in the mirror and you look in the bottom right hand corner for the time...

Coming home

Sad but true, but my little sojourn out in Malta is coming to an end. I am consuming all the leftovers and wondering if the little bit of shampoo I have left will last me till Thursday. I am a little concerned to say the least about the alarming number of 'planes that are falling out of the sky at present. I know I have to be rational about these things, but I wish they'd print more statistics, such as 'The 6895^th aeroplane to take off in the world this hour has met with a slight mishap'...or words to that affect. It would certainly sooth my troubled mind.

Food

This is my supper for tomorrow night. No, silly people, not all of it! This is tuna – caught today and it's resting in the fridge overnight. It'll be much better then. This is only a baby one. I knew they were quite big, but, wow! Sadly I don't have Nelson's Column or a London Double Decker to hand to show you the comparison, but it's about a metre and a bit long. In old money 4 feet or thereabouts...The fishermen caught too many apparently and consequently 5 are residing in my supplier's freezer. I saw a picture of one that was 300kg. Again, in old money, and in my estimation, about Very Big.

Phoenicia

I returned to Valletta today. I checked out the fine arts museum. It was certainly very impressive – not necessarily in terms of quantity but the quality shouldn't be ignored. Although less could be said for the lighting. Strip lighting of the 1960s served only to befuddle the viewer. Adopting a meer-cat like stance, with head bobbing to the left and right, was the only way in which one able to achieve a sense of the subject matter in some of the rather impressive paintings. A shame. The building was lovely. One Horatio Nelson had connections with it, something to do with his naval days and serving a three year stint in Malta.

And then I went for a little walk to see parts of Valletta that I haven't seen before. I walked up to Hastings Gardens and saw the views over to Mdina and all the towns inbetween, a bit of a sprawling metropolis where they all merge into one, but still quite interesting nonetheless. I managed to find a view overlooking the bus terminus. Chaotic and dangerous in equal measure. As the buses made their way round the vast Triton Fountain, horns blowing, polluting the planet and eroding the limestone, I could see St Publius church, which is quite a vast structure and also the Hotel Phoenicia. Now, the Hotel Phoenicia is a (?the) 5 star hotel in Malta and it boasts many things and to give them credit, where credit's due, they do 'big up the bus'. Now this is where you take a deep breath, pause and say 'However'. To not put too fine a point on it, it would have to be pretty fucking spectacular on the inside to make me want to stay there. Views to the front will contain the one and only bus route into the terminus, views to the side contain the terminus itself, views from another part contain all the ne'er do wells that hang around by the bus terminus, views from the other side contain some shoddy tennis courts and chuck in a car park or two around the way. And there you have it. Welcome to the Hotel Phoenicia. Maybe when it was built it had quite a different aspect...and I'm sure it did – quite a commanding position all things considered, but oh, how things change!

Solitude

I went off into the hinterland of Malta today. You'll understand the little joke I'm having there as Malta is pocket sized and teeny tiny. However, I was driven by a need to find total solitude. I want to know if it exists. All day every day tyres squealing, children crying, dogs barking, music playing. It really is quite a cacophony of sound. So I looked at my pocket sized map (see second line) and went a-walking. I walked past the beach I usually go to. Hellish – see above. I walked past the other beach, which was a bit like a shanty town. Then walked up a stony path that got rockier and rockier. I saw less people and then I didn't see anyone...but I could hear some music. So I walked a bit further. And then it happened. I didn't hear anything. For about 4 seconds and then a speed boat made its way past. So people, it IS possible to find silence in Malta albeit for a few seconds.

Ask me if it's possible to go anywhere on Malta without seeing a plastic water bottle and that would have to be an emphatic no.

Crime Museum – Police HQ

9 a.m. to 4 p.m. the Crime Museum at the Police Headquarters, Floriana, displaying murder scenes and accessories of crime. The Police Museum features equipment used since the forces' inception

...so runs the daily classified ad in The Times. And so I went along. This is not something that is marketed as part of the 'tourist trail' as all of the legends were in Maltese. This is a shame as I could only guess at the gruesome circumstances in which people met their untimely end in bath tubs and washing machines. A family were been given the guided tour when I arrived, all in Maltese of course. The first room was the usual uniform-through-the-ages, austere-photos-of-distinguished-policemen, modes-of-transport type thing. Tantalisingly a room lay shrouded in darkness which promised rich pickings as far as all things gruesome were concerned. I idly made my way up and down the room waiting for the tour to get as far as this room. If I wasn't in a police station I'm sure I'd look very suspicious. Thankfully, after she'd explained in HUGE amounts of detail about a cell in 1845, the policewoman made her way to the arch and switched the lights on. She did the preliminary checks with the parents of the family to make sure they were happy for their children to be witness to 'murder scenes and accessories of crime' and we were in. Behind glass panels were staged re-enactments of, presumably, notorious murders of the past...well...50 years. Bearing in mind that Malta lays claim to being one of the oldest police forces in Europe it (?happily) lacks the pedigree of infamy that we, in the UK, are familiar with. Although, interestingly, they do make reference to the botched Egyptian Air hijack in 1985. The other thing that surprised me, in the half dozen or so displays of murder, was the relative 'newness' of it all. What did the families make of it all to see their loved ones depicted in their final moments by dummies?

Holidaying on your own

Clearly there are advantages and disadvantages.

Disadvantages:

1. If you want chips you have to order them yourself
   
2. Photographs are boring if there's nobody else in them, apart from random Japanese tourists
   
3. Who rubs suntan on your back?
   
4. You have way more postcards to write
   
5. There's no one else to blame if you get lost
   

Advantages:

1. Great weight loss plan
   
2. You never get lost
   
3. You don't have to rush back for anyone or anything
   
4. No arguments about what you want to go and see and when
   
5. People think you're local

Daddy

I saw Daddy. I know it was him cos the numberplate on his Nissan penis extension told me. He's the guy that wears his shades all day, draws attention to himself by TALKING VERY LOUDLY and PRETENDING TO ARGUE WITH HIS MATES, checks his tattoos (to check the spelling? I dunno), has his car right where he can see it and leaves the engine running. This is because he has the air conditioning on ice-cooooool the whole time.

Rabat

Today was spent in Rabat and Mdina. I visited St Agatha's Catacombs which were quite unlike anything I've ever visited before. A guided tour showed us round about a tenth of the complex, through burial chambers, alters and little rooms. It was quite eerie and not somewhere that I'd like to spend any time on my own! The fact that it is 'hewn from the living rock' adds to its impressiveness - basically there ain't a lot between you and the building above. Some of it, predictably, is unstable, whilst other areas are going through a very slow process of renovation. That people spent any time down there at all is interesting. It's damp, smells and is full of dead people. Here they would eat a final repast in celebration of the dead. They would also come down to pray and worship. It has been a part of Rabat for over 1500 years and, thankfully, hasn't been superseded by the 21^st century. The museum is a higgledy-piggledy mishmash of pottery, statues, icons, bones and carvings. The labels are typewritten, curled and brown from the sun that is allowed to pour into the 3 rooms that the exhibits are shown in. St Paul's catacombs are just a stones throw away. I plan to visit them next week but clearly all the money has been thrown their way – the audioguides for visitors and the planning permission to renovate the walls and gates show that St Paul just has the edge on St Agatha. Whether it's for the better or not remains to be seen.

Pjazza

Tonight was the night that live TV came to Marsascala. I can't say that I really knew what was going on as it was all in Maltese, but it did have terrible acts – notably Clive and Bianca – and people could phone or text in to vote for the one they they hated/liked (didn't really find out) and not sure what happened to those who did win/lose. The show was hosted by three people, two men and a woman. All very showbizzy. One of the men clearly didn't have a stylist/girlfriend/boyfriend to tell him that the clothes he wore were really far too tight. His mother probably chose them. The show was interspersed by some competition involving two members of the public who formed teams with two 'famous' people – Abigail and Pepe. Not sure who they were either. The high point of that was when the two contestants sang 'Let's get physical' whilst exercising on a cross trainer. I can't say I've ever seen that done in heels before. After each activity they were given white envelopes – it must have been to whoever was deemed to be better or garnered more sympathy from the completely glamorous hostess. In between all of this there were more songs and more interviews. All of this in maltese of course, although I could guess at some of the questions from the answers that were given – figure skating, Kate Moss, mum, Brad Pitt, modelling. Then they launched into various songs from the hit film 'Mamma Mia' or as we would know it as Abba Covers. From the way that the completely glamorous hostess cavorted around the impossibly fit young men with their amazing 6-packs whilst singing 'gimme gimme gimme' it was clear that she had been part of their casting sessions. Then I left. Not sure who this is broadcast to. Couldn't really tell you who their demographic is. Not even sure it's on a national TV station and I think it's a sort of NPR thing. The best bit of the evening, for me, was the incredibly good looking camera man who would race on to the stage with his camera on some sort of robotic arm, hurtle around the performers then run off again.

Snails

I had snails. I ain't never had snails before. Don't think I'll be repeating the experience. Whilst there was nothing particularly repugnant about the flavour I have to say it was all in the presentation. I was quite happily...well...gingerly would be a good word...I was gingerly picking my way through the smaller shells armed with my toothpick. Stab, grab and yank is the technique I mastered in my brief sojourn into the world of snail eating. I even acquired a glibness of hand (if that exists), but my composure was ruffled when I stabbed and grabbed and the thing positively slithered out with a bit of a plop and lay elongated and slug like in a puddle. That's when I hung up my toothpick. No more for me.

Who looked at a snail and thought 'yep, I'm gonna have me one of those, if it's good enough for the birds then it's good enough for me. Dorothy, get me ma hammer'. WHY would you want to find out something like that? You'd have to be starving hungry to go down that road wouldn't you.

They fought them on the beaches...

The British and the Maltese were not working at the harmony that so many people have fought to promote over recent centuries. All over a bit of sand and a 5 year old. The front lines had been established and the battle commenced. The Maltese women didn’t like the English kids kicking sand at them as they ran past. The warring factions had to be split up at one point and the English called for reinforcements. It was all a bit nasty. The Canadians left, the British rallied round and watched from afar and the Maltese didn’t know whether to get involved or not. It was an exercise in how to clear a beach (albeit small) in a relatively short space of time at any rate.

ATP

Imagine a 30 something man driving a vehicle with hard core dance music pounding out of the stereo...imagine this same man craning his neck at every woman he drives past...imagine one of his mates sitting behind him also looking at these girls...imagine then they are passing a mobile phone between the two of them and looking at text messages and listening to phone messages and calls...imagine that you're a passenger on the bus that he's driving...

This happens more frequently then is probably safe. However, the buses do have some redeeming features. Yes, it's true. They are much maligned and the recent transport strike has done nothing to help their plight, however, the bus transport system is regular, efficient (to a degree) and is far reaching. The buses range in age from Very Old to Very New. Don't ask me details – I'm a girl. Some look like they have been lifted directly from 1950s middle America (Old). Others look nice and shiny (new). The one thing...no, the two things that provide...actually the three things that mark them from other public transport systems is that the buses are all yellow, the cabs are all personalised in their own way – from shrines to the holy family to images of cars and children, and they are all driven with a reckless abandon that makes Formula 1 look like a Sunday drive with your grandfather. Everyone has a story to tell about a journey. It's a wonder that people get from A to B in one piece.

To ciao or not to ciao

I am in a bit of a quandary about this. Being so close to Italy the Maltese are prone to a bit of ciao-ing when they meet, in passing and on leaving. I'm of the 'when in Rome' brigade but I can't get over the pretentiousness that 'to ciao' acquired in Britain way back in the 80s and 90s. Rather awkwardly I have avoided reciprocating (and certainly not instigating) this greeting. But what do I do? Do I just get over my hang ups and ciao along with the rest of them or do I cringe, inwardly, every time I am greeted in this way and maintain a strict regimen of hellos, goodbyes and how DO you dos?

Language Schools

Off to Sliema to make sense of where these language schools are. Not a great deal of joy but did speak to a very helpful man who is director of a school. I have to try and find my A-level certificates. I can’t remember the last time anyone wanted to see one of those...if at all! I wonder if that’s going to be a problem. However, all is not lost.
We had lunch out and then it was back to the apartment. I had a faint glimmer of hope in the internet connection thing and managed to pick up an unsecured network – however, I was foiled at the final hurdle. I could probably hack into the files on whoever’s pc, but I can’t get a damn connection to my email! In this rather gung-ho attempt to achieve all of this I even climbed up on the roof and covered in sandstone. How frustrating not to have access.
Andrew has found his feet with the local boys. Lord knows what he’s up to, but he’s been fishing for a few hours.
The town is getting ready for their festa this weekend. Not sure, exactly, what it entails but fireworks or very loud explosions have been heard from neighbouring towns. Hopefully it’s fireworks at any rate.

Valletta

As my son embarks upon his Swallows and Amazons holiday I am left, in the late evening listening to the strains of ra-ra-rasputin, to reflect upon our day in Valetta. Valiant capital of all that is Malta. The prime motive for embarking upon this journey was to try and find a school that would hire me. And could I find a school let alone a job offer? No. Instead, after pouring over anglicised Maltese street names (why-oh-why-oh-why?) and trying to match them up with the street maps, I gave up. All roads seem to lead to Sliema though. That's where we're headed tomorrow. So after giving up on today we went to enjoy 'The Maltese Experience' as narrated by Sir Derek Jacoby. What an interesting experience that was. We were talked through about 3000000 years worth of history to the rounded vowels of Sir Derek. The Maltese Experience is multi-national and I wonder which stars of stage and screen narrated their countries translation. All I could hear beyond my headphones was German.
The boy has gone native and is mixing with the locals. Off fishing tonight he is with a net, rod and a knapsack on his back. If he comes back with a tattoo of a half-naked mermaid on his forearm I shall count myself lucky that he came back at all.
I'm off to read about Michael Palin's travels round eastern Europe.
I know that kung fu pandas are all the rage but on Malta it's The Shaolin, kung fu monks. They've been and gone, which is a shame, but they sure know how to cash in!

Marsaxlokk Fish Market

Marsaxlock Fish market. Got there about 9.00 and, much to my surprise, it wasn’t as busy as I was anticipating. We were able to walk around in relative comfort and look at all the dead and dying fish. Much the same could be said of the vegetables. We bought a few vegetables and also some langoustine – about 1 kilo. That’s supper for tonight! Got back to the apartment and read for a while as it was so damn not. The maltese do complain about the heat, which I find quite funny. We went to the beach at about 3.00. It was packed. My idea of holiday hell. The boy attempted some more fishing, but the fishys weren’t coming out to play. Don’t blame them myself.

Back at the apartment we sorted out supper with our earlier catch of the day. Then we promenaded around the harbour as the rest of Malta is wont to do. Sunday night is clearly the social evening of the week.

Relaxing...

Not such an early start but not bad all things considered – slept very well! Managed to get the bus the back of 9. Got a good spot on the beach, lost the boy for an hour as he went off in search of fishing gear, roasted for the morning with occasional plunges in the med. Quick beer in the shade and back to cooking in the sun. Somehow got conned into dabbling in the fine art of fishing. Some guy took pity on the boy and his feeble attempts at chucking some hooks in the water and showed him how to do it. No luck in the fish catching but, my god, he can chuck a mean line.

Back to Marsascala. For all the bus drivers have fallen foul of criticism after the recent strike we’ve been very lucky with paying/not paying. Is this a good thing? Morally should I feel bad about it? We’ve paid full fare once, half fare once and 1 free trip. Great! Went looking for a paper and milk. Ended up in what passes itself as a postoffice. Not so sure what this entails myself – but it sells a remarkable amount of ‘stuff’. The poor women in there were being barracked by a man. English. 70s. Comedian. You can imagine. Think Butlins, 1970s, where humour of a certain pedigree was once the mainstay of the British working classes. I smiled at one of the women who looked completely nonplussed by his mockney, sexist comments. I asked if he was a regular. She said he lived here. Oh dear I think I commented. Then the boy asked if we could get milk and eggs anywhere and would you believe it but another Englishman of a certain age happened to be in the shop at the moment and asked what we were after and offered us Colmans mustard as if it were contraband. I declined this most generous offer. Do I look like the sort of person who requires Colman’s Mustard ? Back to the apartment for a shower and siesta and then on to the balcony to try and finish the book I started about 2 days ago. The boy has been out fishing again, determined to catch the one that got away! About to meet him for supper. He’s hungry. It’s been a busy day for him.

Cats are almost revered on Malta. They run wild for the most part and are fed and watered by the locals. In England they wouldn’t be given this much care and attention! The boy takes great delight in watching the antics of the kittens across the way in some derelict land. I think he has names for some of them.
Sounds like some bombs are going off somewhere. Maybe it’s a festa.

Day 1

Slow start. Got more shopping in. The boy slept in, he must have been tired. Late afternoon we went to the beach in St Thomas Bay. Got more provisions and then had a rather lovely meal of pasta and a tomato sauce. Jolly good it was too. Out for desert and to sample the local wildlife. Then back to bed with promises of an early start and to the beach.

Last minute preparations...

How time flies! What exactly have I achieved today - my day off, my day of preparation for going away? Well, I've discovered that I'm either a)taking too much stuff or b) my suitcases aren't big enough. As a) is clearly not feasible it therefore must be b). According to Air Malta (and who makes up these silly rules anyway?) I can only take one piece of hand luggage and it seems that they're not joking about that! How am I meant to take a lap top AND a handbag? Where do business people put their lipstick? So, in the interest of trying to save space I've taken the toothpaste out of its cardboard box. You'd be amazed at how much space that's freed up. I've taken out two books also. My filofax has got fatter and fatter though. And NOOOOO that's not where I've put the books. I suddenly realised that I hadn't even packed my hairdryer. The space saving on the toothpaste box has been considerable! It remains to be seen if I can lift the case.

I'll worry about that in the morning.

I'm off to make my bed!

Day Off...ha ha

Well, today is the day when I can start packing and getting ready for tomorrow. School is finished. I managed to sleep in till 7.00 (still feel exhausted) and now I am faced with All The Things I Need To Do.

1. Packing
Clearly this is one of the most intrinsic things about going away. My mother glibly says 'oh but you don't need to take much'. 'A-hem, oh mother, have you NO idea?'
Gone are the days when one could simply throw in a swimming costume, a pair of shorts and a clean t-shirt. Malta is a small island. I can't POSSibly be seen in the same outfit twice. Someone may notice.

2. Toiletries
We already discussed this. Ready for all eventualities, who knows when a body souffle is going to be needed?

3. Money
This is causing me no small amount of grief. I am going to the postoffice to get all my money changed up to about 10.90 worth of Euros.

4. Paperwork
Don't know even where to begin regarding this. Ask me Friday when I'm there what happened.

...And relax...

Made it! Finally got through the day. Not too traumatic if truth be told, but then I've bailed out before it gets really frantic I feel!

So after I bailed I had to sort out the ole money. Scared myself by checking out the exchange rates. Can't believe how much it's come down. September last year it was about 1.35, February this year it was about 1.26 now it's barely 1.21. I shall be living on roadkill and dandelion leaves in malta. Do they even have dandelions out there? Will they be burnt to a crisp because of the heat? My summer of living the high life based on the exchange rate of last year is no more. I'll have to say goodbye to the spa days, goodbye to eating out everyday, goodbye to the little presents that I was going to bring back for everyone.

On top of organising things for when I'm away I've also started to think about things for when I come back (clearly the caveat there is 'IF I come back...'). I've found a lodger for september. That's quite a relief. She's French and is willing to pay the exorbitant prices I'm charging her. Hopefully she'll throw in some french lessons gratis.

And I'm halfway to finding a solution to my TV dilemma. Fox and CBS air their TV programmes on their websites - I should be able to keep up to speed with House and NCIS. Looks like that has secured my departure from these soggy shores.

School's out

Today is my last day at work. Not sure how I'm going to get through the day - think it's going to be a long one. I'm quite glad that I'm not going to be at work these last few days to be honest. There's so much going on, which is par for the course this time of year, but it's all so badly organsised. They have all year to plan for the end of term but it seems to come as a bit of a surprise when it actually gets here! If I haven't left then I'm doing the same again next year and take the last few days of school off. I'll make up a destination if I have to!

Bus Strikes

Well...Malta has ground to a bit of a halt because the hearses are on strike. Today the bus and cab drivers joined in the shenanigans and brought everything to a bit of a grinding halt. So-much-so that the Government have seen fit to provide 13 emergency bus services as of tomorrow. This does throw an interesting slant on my trip. I've been a big supporter of the transport system out there. The fact that a) they have one b) it gets to most parts of the island reasonably efficiently and c) it's so bloody affordable it makes me quite giddy just thining about it. However that's not the general feeling in Malta. I feel that if they spent some time in North East Kent they may revise their thoughts about their 'tardy' bus service. Reading their complaints though I think I would be quite frustrated - the bus drivers, apparently, make it up as they go along. However, the original strike was nothing to do with them - I'm not even sure they know why they're striking! Hopefully it'll all be resolved by the end of the week.

My hallway

Just on a slightly different tack I'm having my hallway done at the moment and it's going to be painted red - not all of it but there will be two accent walls. This is the red that I've chosen. What I love about this link is that you can zoom in on the colour. Handy :D

Packing

Tis true, I started to pack today. Well, pack in the sense that I was gathering together all my lovely new toiletries (girls, you know where I'm coming from here). I put them all in to different piles - hands, feet, face etc etc etc and then admired them before putting them into their own seperate bags (this is organisation at it's finest!). Don't you think there's something so satisfying about having lots of new toiletries for your hols - what a great excuse to go out and get them in the first place! What a pleasure it is to unpack at the other end and arrange them where you're staying, just waiting to be used. The only downside is that they're quite heavy. But Andrew won't mind carrying them I'm sure. He'll only need a pair of pants and a toothbrush anyway. However, I'm of the mind that I won't necessarily be bringing them back which means that there'll be lots of room for the other lovely things. I can recommend the nougat. Not a big fan generally but the stuff from Malta is pretty fab.

I do have a TV dilemma if someone wants to help me out here...I was going to turn off everything electrical in the house. In the interest of saving money and Being Green. That includes the PC, cooker, microwave the lot. However, House happened. New season starts Monday. In the absense of ER this is a medical drama that, absolutely without a doubt, I love. And...there's a continuing episode of NCIS next week...I'll just have to cancel Malta, there's no other option :/

And I must have missed something with the whole Branjelina thing. I thought she had her twins about 6 weeks ago - the papers even gave them names. What happenened? Have I found a parallel universe?

Scotney Castle

 
This is Scotney Castle. I love Scotney Castle. My garden looks just like that. No really it does. Thought that the blog needed brightening up a bit and as I don't have any current pictures of Malta then Scotney will have to do for the time being.

Dream

Had my first dream about being in Malta this morning. I was in a room with two other people. We were sitting at a table with the curtains partly closed as the sun was so bright. There was a box on the table with 15 compartments. The objects in the box were being counted in Maltese. I amazed my two companions by being able to remember the numbers, but I'd found it easy as they had counted using the French alphabet. Y was 15. I remember that.

Just looking at the 'Situations Vacant' small ads in The Times of Malta. Property consultants are required for several companies. One has requested that applicants must have own car and suit. Contact Darren.

The Elements

Just over a week to go and time is passing rapidly. I've got my TEFL certificates, factor 30 sun cream, swimming cossie and a few books. What more do I need to take for 6 weeks in Malta? Damn! I forgot my earthquake survival pack. And I thought that Malta was just some sleepy Mediterranean Island that got invaded occasionally by marauders and tourists, or by marauding tourists depending on who you speak to. Clearly not. Nobody said nothing about the earth shaking about. The Times of Malta has reported two, yes TWO, earthquakes by Malta and Gozo in recent days. Malta even has it's own seismic department! And by the way, if anyone's thinking about going to Southern Greece on their hols...well, don't.

Results: Pass or Fail?

After all the tidying up and blood, sweat and tears I actually bloody passed the first part of the TEFL course. Hurrah. I got a certificate and everyfink. Still plodding through the grammar module though. On to future tenses. Yes, it IS as boring as it sounds. There could be future generations of Europeans, taught by me, who are unable to get work, because I gave them the wrong participle for the future progressive tense...or something...Oh, the responsibilities I bear. I shall be burdened by this cross when I go to Malta...as if...

Lesson Planning

Well, the kitchen is tidy, I've done the Su Doku, I've sorted out my sock drawer....I've even paired up the odd socks that have been hanging around. It can only mean one thing...I have work to do. The lesson plan is looming over my head like a big loomy thing. I have two more attempts of three and the first one was a complete disaster. This is a bit like the game Mastermind with the coloured pegs. Remember that? Always stresses me out - the frustration at not being able to see what colour pegs are under the little hood is far too much for me to bear and my anxiety levels reach quite dizzying heights.

My tutor has, effectively, given me 4 red pegs.

The laws of averages are not in my favour.

Failed...

Tis true. I have failed the last module of the TEFL course. All is not lost though I have two more attempts to pass...or I'll be waitressing in Malta!

Beginning another week...

Three and a half more weeks to go...and time is running out fast. After undertaking absolutely no work at all on Sunday I thought I'd better up the pace tonight. 1.5 modules completed. Would have liked to have completed module 8 of the TEFL...but there's no point in rushing these things...tomorrow is not unreasonable. I keep forgetting that I have a whole grammar course to complete also. I'm about half way through that (the forums suggest that there are about 350 questions), but I reckon that it would be prudent to go back and start checking my answers now...just in case. Anyhow, for the first 40 hours I reckon that I'll be finished by about the weekend. That gives me time to concentrate on Everything Else. Of which there is a lot. The one thing that I keep thinking about is being out of a dusty environment. It's reached epidemic proportions here. Is there any point to dusting while the floors above basement level are reached only be a complicated bucket and pully system? I think not. To escape that for 6 weeks is going to be fantastic.

Lazy Sunday

No developments on the Malta front. Took my daily dose of Vitamin B1 in a feeble attempt to fend off mosquitoes when I get there though.

Preperations

After moaning about my TEFL tutor not enabling me to carry on with my next module I had an email from him this morning. I completed the 6th module this afternoon. Am over half way through. From the posts in the forums it looks as if the course is going to get even harder. I'm trying to see it as the home straight. I wonder if I can get it completed by next weekend? Maybe a bit of a tall order but it does clear the decks for all the other things I have to do before I go away.

Today I bought some things that I may or may not need. My mantra as I walk around the shops is 'It's only Malta, it's not a third world country. They have Marks & Spencer for God's sake!' However, I did buy some sun cream and other dull things like that. Looking at the weather forecast for this weekend (rain and gales) I'm so glad that I only have to wait another 3 weeks.

I am having a bit of a dilemma on the clothing front. Cropped trousers really really REALLY don't suit me. What's a girl to do? With legs like mine there ain't no way on this earth I'm exposing my legs to anyone, not even to those in Malta. It's a bike thing. I'm planning on buying a bike whilst I'm out there. Short of riding side saddle it does put me in a bit of a quandary for the correct clothing attire in those circumstances. Suggestions anyone?

TEFL

One of the reasons I'm going out to Malta is to teach. This is a bit of a ruse to get away from the awful British weather in all reality. As I mentioned before I'm currently working on a TEFL qualification in order to do this. Easy peasy lemon squeezy I thought. Pah! Not likely mate. Did I miss grammar lessons at school (simple past - event, now over, irregular verb)? There's a whole subject out there that seems to have passed me by (present perfect anybody?). Anyhow, I am plodding slowly along with it and hoping to complete within the next two weeks.

I have an apartment. It's lovely by all accounts - certainly that's what the pictures indicate. It's near the bay in Marsascala. I shall be teaching in Paceville (Patch-ay-ville is how it's pronounced - the North American Indians invaded at some point a-Paceville...just my little joke there...). Paceville is not far from Valletta, which is the capital of Malta. However, it's still nearly an hour on the bus (two buses in fact!) from Marsascala. I had to weigh up the pros and cons of being that far out from Valletta (it's not that far in reality, it's just the traffic is so bloody awful). I know Marsascala and like the bay. There are restaurants and bars and there's a lot of local life going on. The tourists tend to head to the north of the island, so there is that going for it also.

What am I looking forward to?
The sun and the heat. That has to be top of the list. But what's it like to live and work in 40+ degrees? Something I've never had to do before.

Life in a different country. 6 weeks isn't horribly long, but enough to get a taste for it I think.

Exploring the island more. There was so much I didn't do before - didn't even scratch the surface in fact. I reckon there must have been about 4500 years of history that I didn't bother with.

What will I miss?
*thinks* well...there's the...uh....there's the...no....ummmm....what about the....errr....oh gosh! oh I forgot about that thing, you know the, ah, the....no......
I'll get back to you on that. Of course I'll miss my lovely friends. DID I REALLY HAVE TO SAY THAT? Oh tish people!

Summer Plans

Well, for all those who care I'm off to Malta for the summer. Hurrah. The plan is to work whilst I'm out there - I have to justify my existance somehow. I'm currently half way through undertaking my TEFL qualification and shall be using this to teach - that's the plan anyway. I'm taking The Boy and then The Parents fly out 10 days later. Exciting.