Tuesday, 15 September 2009


In the country we live in, with it's poor economy, it's shootings and it's plethora of clouds, it is understandable why so many British people want to do one for 10-14 days each year. I myself stuck with this mass exodus this summer and did one myself. The holiday itself was fantastic. Speedboats, sun, and a Maltese ringer for Cannon or Ball. I'm unsure which one it is, and can't be arsed researching either. I take pride in my work.

First of all, a necessity during a holiday in a country where the temperature rarely drops below "The Surface of The Sun°C" is air conditioning. But at €12 a night (which equates to an extra €168 for the holiday), a set of plums like a tin of, well, plums, looked like the better option. That's a lesson learned for the next holiday methinks. Waking up in a pool of sweat and putting cloths in the freezer is something I don't wish to repeat.

Next up is my beef with sun lotion. It's generally well known that anything below is Factor 15 is just Factor 15 with water in it. But that's besides the point. I want to know why the sun tan stuff we brought along sounded more like a lolly ice. Ambre Solaire? I could have waded in drunk and drank it, it sounds so good. Did the trick though, I must say. (Sun tan wise, not quenching a drunken yearning for fruity goodness.)

We then have families who leave their children to their own devices while they seek a tan that resembles something of a mahogany-esque quality. Quite unsettling really, especially being on the roof of the apartments. I shall strike down these families now with scorn. Scorn and sunburn. And they kept reserving the best sunbeds. The bastards.

Holiday food is always a talking point. I myself found the variety over there a nice change. Instead of my usual fish and vegetables, I ate unusual fish. And vegetables. And a whole rabbit. And before you all write me off as a monster for eating poor Thumper, I will add that this rabbit was a convicted murderer. So it deserved eating.

And finally, the place of choice, which was Malta, was absolutely fantastic, especially given that I have family over there. I've got to thank Alberto Santos Dumont or The Wright Brothers (depending what side of the fence you're on) for the capability of flight so I could see my cousin's new baby son and my family who I have missed and, as a result of coming home, am continuing to miss.

Malta itself is a fantastic island, if not a little dangerous on the roads. The people are so very laid back. The weather is fantastic during your run of the mill holiday months. But a little passage such as this could not describe the little place sufficiently enough. Just go over there. You'll see what I'm on about.

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