Friday 29th Days are beginning to ebb away at an alarming speed now, still have a few boxes I intend to tick before time is called, I want to return to the Three cities they are Vittoriosa I visited there a couple of weeks ago, but have yet to give Senglea and Cospicua a good viewing, in days of old they were known as Birgu, Isola, and Bormla in that order these were the names given by the Knights, many of the locals still use the old names.
I catch the 45 you will know I am beginning to find this journey a chore, well it gets worse I decide to count the bus stops between terminus to terminus, how sad, off through town after town, Mellieha, Xemxija, Burmarrad, Mosta, Birkirkara, Iklin, Floriana these are now imprinted on my brain, in my mind I try to guess how many there will be should I be asked in some strange quiz where I get to pick the questions I’m asked, you know the easy ones like what’s your middle name, I know that one, I come up with a number, sorry must concentrate I’d hate to miss a stop, and have to start again, when we pull into the terminus, it has been sixty three stops, and that unbelievably is the numbered I guessed, I feel like telling the whole bus, surly that’s worth a prize.
I set off for the Cities, the weather is fine blue skies overhead and behind me, but when I look in the direction I’m heading for , it is distinctly black, I plan to stay on the bus for as long as possibly, so why do I get off by a church ?, that turns out to be in the middle of nowhere, quick look at the church then start walking, I had planned to do very little walking due to painful blisters, the black sky is now overhead, it dawns on me there is no cover should the heavens open, not too long and the first drops of rain hit me, for someone who wanted to do very little walking, can you tell me why I’m now jogging for all I’m worth, I spot a parked cargo container, I take cover underneath at least until the rain that’s now a shower let’s up a little, it abates a slightly so I’m again legging it up the road, why did I get off the bus? I see what looks like a bus shelter ahead so increase my pace, I get under cover, to soon be joined by a couple of locals, the rain stops, they leave, looking around I see a sign for “Fort Rinella” the fort construction started in 1878 and was completed in 1886 so obviously in the Victorian era, the fort houses the Armstrong 100 ton gun, so with the weather as it is this could be a good place to visit, it was not on my agenda, but the rain is changing my plans.
I enter the fort through the solid steel doors and notice that are re-enactment displays at 11,12, and on the hour for a few more, as it is eleven, I think what a stroke of luck, so I buy my eight Euro ticket, then I’m told there is no show until this evening, one o’clock, there it is again just like the policeman yesterday, evening, just when does evening begin ? Do the Maltese not have a word for afternoon ? Out of luck again I feel like asking for some of my eight Euros back if there’s no show.
I start discovering the fort, outside to look at the gun, it is a monster, there were four of these made, two came to Malta in 1882, another two went to Gibraltar, the gun could fire a one ton shell that would go through sixteen inches of steel up to four miles away, now that must have been impressive, but this one was never fired in anger, in fact it has not been fired since 1906, of the four only two still remain, even if it doesn’t fire it looks the business.
The museum is next, full of old uniforms and nick knacks from Victorian times, the weather is at least dry now, so soon I’m on my way again, but where to? I retrace my steps and end up back at the church, no sign of any buses, and the feet are now starting to feel more uncomfortable.
On my previous visit I had seen a sign marking out Notre Dam gate as being of interest, but was unable to find it, again I see the sign so I set off in pursuit once more, it’s all up hill, that will do the feet the world of good, just then the heavens open once more another heavy shower, luckily for me I’m able to take cover within the minute, so not too wet this time, a few minutes pass and so does the shower, I continue up the hill will this never end, and just how far is it, it occurs to me it might well be a couple of miles for all I know, my feet don’t like that thought, I stop an ask a local who of course speaks English although after speaking to her I’m not that sure, she seems to have no idea where the gate is, and I’m asking her outside her home, so just how far is it then, or maybe she does not care about the gate that is worthy of a sign.
A few yards further on and a car pulls into a drive, a young lady gets out, lets try again, I strike gold, she knows what I’m talking about, what’s more it’s not far, just follow the road round I’m told, well I do within a couple of minutes at last I’m there, I hear my feet saying, can this be it? Don’t have anymore bright ideas, worst of all it’s no great shakes compared to some of the things I seen, photographs taken, I head back down the hill, then the heavens open with a vengeance, this time it is no shower this is full scale downpour, guess what no bloody cover, I try to shelter under some guttering, it sticks out from the wall about four inches, in seconds my shoes are soaked, most of my trousers are soaked, the rain is running off the peak of my baseball cap, there is very little point staying here, off I go running again, if my feet could kill me they would, if I get any wetter I’ll let them!
I make it to a bus stop, I have now decided to abandon the day, on the bus within a short time like a drowned rat, sitting in soaking wet clothes is no fun at the best of times, knowing I will not be back in my room for at least almost two hours fills me with deep joy, not.
Heading back into Valletta I try to take my mind off the wet damp feeling enveloping me, no I’m not counting bus stops again, I do notice a couple of posters in shop windows that have me thinking, the first advertising Macpherson paints over 10,000 colours, 10,000 how many can you think of, surly an exaggeration, the second one really has my brain going at a tangent, The Jesuits educated Adolf, I think well at least he had a good education, just think how he might have turned out with out one!
Two long hours and I’m back, having picked up some more plasters in Valletta, change, shower, down to the bar for a drink I need one, a little later in the evening the Friday pattern repeats itself, the hotel is inundated with Maltese of all ages for their long weekend, I’m sat talking to a guy called William, now he used to be a banker, well to do I would think by his manner, he has had a brain tumour removed and part of the one side of his face has dropped a little, but he knows what’s what that’s for sure, we are taking about his love of all things to do with railways, when a large group of young Maltese pass us on their way to the restaurant the noise is deafening, I comment to William that I don’t think young people of a volume control, I base that on the fact of the noise I can hear but also when I was walking back down the hill from Notre Dam gate before the downpour I passed a school, there were a group of about six or seven year olds in the playground, maybe twenty of them and again the noise was of ear defender level, it’s been as bad a day as yesterday was good, so after taking with William and his wife Lyndsey for an hour about his love of music, four thousand albums mostly first edition he likes all sorts of music except rap well we have that in common, says he would find it hard to pick twelve records if he were ever invited on to desert Island discs, but he would take a tractor a red Fordson, Lynsey tells of her love of walking holiday without William, I head off to bed.
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