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.