Connected again

 The wifi and communication in general were really either non-existent or very poor where we have been in beautiful W Sussex. I would have posted while we were there but it proved to be so frustrating and difficult I just gave up.

I wrote this yesterday (Monday) hoping to post at a friend's house but it didn't work out, so I will do it today now we are home.  

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A few days have passed without my posting anything, mostly due to the difficulties of getting online. This part of the country has poor connections, and the campsite has no wifi in particular.  The campsite is pretty stressy, or was during the weekend. It used to be a rated/certificated site - with minimal facilities, but the new owner took over at the start of the year, not having run a campsite before, and of course with no idea that the lockdown would bring people in their droves.  What works perfectly well with 10 or 20 groups does not work with 150. One ladies’ toilet, for instance, is not enough……  

We were jammed in, so close and crowded we could hear everything and no doubt our neighbours heard us too. Dogs were roaming and barking and howling and pooing…. The showers quickly ran out of hot water.  Bonfires and music and clattering …. agh!  That was from Friday till yesterday morning when (blessedly) most people left.  Now it’s just lightly populated and we can hear birds singing.   

All this pressure was exacerbated by the extreme heat and humidity. We have been so grateful for the trees all around. They are lovely, blessed things. Their shade, their coolness, their beauty......

On Saturday we went to the Roman Villa at Bignor (wow!!!) and then to the painted church - St Botolphs's at Hardham.. the gracious little interior filled on every square inch with 12th century paintings… all the Bible stories. An amazing place, quite empty, so we had this treasure to ourselves. The wonderful lanky Adam and Eve are on the inside of the chancel arch, reminding the priest of the wickedness of man, I suppose, every time he faced he congregation.  They would be looking (among many other images) at the Lamb of God, the Annunciation, the Presentation, the Flight into Egypt, the trials of St George, what’s thought to be a scene from the Battle of Antioch (previously thought to be a dragon-slaying scene), the Magi, etc etc.  These paintings are glorious, humbling.  Coming straight after our walk around the mosaics at Bignor, it was quite a feast for the eyes all day.   

In the later afternoon we went up to Bignor Top, a clear space on the down… with fantastic far views. A cycling rally station was manned by a team ready to offer them water and oranges, but not many had made it up there in the heat and they were deciding how and when to pack up. This involved quite noisy phone conversations wth other organisers or team members…. it was a relief when they went and we had the place more or less to ourselves. I painted one scene - the ash die back …. the acrylics dried out really fast despite spraying but  I was quite pleased with the result. We did not walk to the very summit - it was really still very hot and that pathway had no shade.

Later we drove to Sainsbury’s at Chichester, to see if I could get a pair of cotton shorts. Yes.   We drove past he Lavender Farm where it seemed from the road way that families of African origin were wandering….

The shade from trees has been essential… we were lucky, in that respect, to get a pitch with more shade than some. And the countryside is so richly wooded, unexpectedly green and ancient… some of the woodland is being cleared out (to create stronger timber I suppose, removing the competitive undergrowths) but few of the roads through these lovely forests are fenced, so the feeling is very unspoiled. The villages are in the valleys (water) and  unbelievably pretty and quaint. One poor old thatched house in West Burton looked very sad… 

everything else is spinked up and looks pretty plush.  I asked the campsite owner about it. He said it would be owned by Lord Mersey, Ned Mersey,  He called him a bigot. He said he’d once had words with him. Mersey had ticked him off for being too close to his horse, and William retorted that the horse was lame…. ‘How would you know?” sneered his lordship. ‘Because we have horses, race horses, always have done…. Take that to the vet or the farrier….’   And late Mersey said to him, ‘you were right. The horse had an access in its foot…’    But  William don’t like him anyway.   William says he’s a cockney, though he was actually born in Shoreham. His family is split between Hackney and Shoreditch and Sussex.   He’s very tall, bald, scary looking. Could have been a boxer. Is now a builder and man of property (Vale of Health included), and since the start of the year, a campsite owner.  He has a fair amount of work to do here to bring it up to scratch.

 Yesterday I managed to wangle enough sitting-and-doing-nothing time to make a painting.  During the last few weeks, campaigning against that wretched man’s ambitions to build on Ordnance Wharf, my beloved and demanding art course has suffered… just not enough time to think or do….  And here too, on the holiday - Andrew’s drive to be doing something all the time has been difficult….Off we go again!  Just sitting and looking, if I am doing that, must be very frustrating for him. It looks like nothing.  But I have to do it to be able to paint.  I have taken so many photos, of the trees, the glimpses of distant landscape (so tantalising as we sweep past), the light and shadows.   I can hear him now, saying ‘Right!’ which means he wants to be off.  We will do a bit of shopping about, and then head towards Chichester again, for lunch w my friend Sandy. 

Getting our bearings

 I am finding the very small awning on this rig frustrating and difficult. In fact I’ve decided I’m never going to use it again (much to A’s annoyance. He said - OK, you buy a new one then). The tent next-door has a connection to the van but has a proper size bedroom and then an open front part which is so much more sensible and practical. Here we are so cramped & with nowhere to store anything. We have too much stuff. There are no points to hang anything, and we keep losing things. We have to grovel through all the various bags looking for things.

Despite the fact we (A) brought a huge tray full of food from the house, tins, jars, packages, etc., we called into a farm shop and bought salads, cheese, hummus etc. That was a good move as they will be shut over the weekend. Extraordinary. 
Then we went into Pulborough, to explore. At the library, they wouldn’t let us in, but said we could use their wifi which was kind of them - it meant in a rudimentary way I could post yesterday’s blog and leave the computer back in the car.  We met two very hot and red-faced traffic wardens ... We’d been lucky to bag a shady parking place.
We strolled down Lower Street, calling into a couple of charity shops to look for a salad bowl because our friends Mary & Stewart are coming for lunch on Sunday & the plan is to make a Salade Niçoise. We called into a brilliant delicatessen where the man advised us not to buy the mayonnaise because it wasn’t very nice, but we picked up various other delicacies. And then had a coffee at the Little Bean cafe where we had to give track-and-trace details, the first time for us. 
We picnicked up at Burton Lake, where we had once visited a few years ago. I’d completely forgotten about it but Andrew remembered straightaway. We hoicked our chairs & stuff through into the woods and had a lovely picnic in the quiet and cool. 

Outside the sun was beating down almost savagely at about 33°. 
The afternoon’s entertainment was to hire a boat at Houghton on the river Arun. We arrived in good time as they asked us and then spent nearly an hour waiting while they got everything ready. Our boat was a bright orange plastic thing and our lifejackets neat and easy to wear. We set off through the pretty bridge and down towards Arundel. After about 20 minutes chugging along, a man in a grey inflatable rowing forwards rather awkwardly, with a little girl as passenger, asked if we would give them a tow. He had been rowing since 2.15 - it was by then 5:20. He’d been against the tide most the way and had gone much further upstream than he planned. 

It took us 3/4 of an hour to get him down to the Black Rabbit, where we dropped him off at his request on some very dodgy looking steps. The little girl had been very distressed and he was very relieved not having to row against the swift and powerful waters of the river. However it made us late getting back because then we were against the tide - It was hard going even with a 6 hp engine. 
Luckily I had rung them to tell the boatyard what had happened. We did not have to pay an extra charge as we feared, and they said that this happened quite a lot. In fact they asked if was it a guy with an open shirt and a little girl, and we said yes- they had spotted them earlier on in the day. 
Back at the campsite we were amazed to see how many more tents and caravans and cars have been allowed in. It really is crowded now. Our neighbors in the yellow box box said ‘Don’t worry! they’ve built a whole new toilet block…’

We had a delicious supper of spelt and spinach pasta with pesto and a fresh salad. We are both very tired but not as tired as the night before.

Happy hols

 We went through London to drop Lucie back home to her flat, and then headed out through Crystal Palace, Croydon and on into Sussex.  The architecture of London fascinates me. South of the river, it’s never quite the same as my childhood roaming grounds, but still tells the stories of expansion and development, speculation and exploitation.  The Victorians were really so plumptious and proud of what the achieved and seemingly made attempts to include everyone in the feeling of wealth…. 

The obsession with a glorious past is everywhere - the endlessly reiterated story of the Golden Elizabethan Age appears in almost every street… gable ends, black-and-white, Tudorbethan… It defines the 19th and 20th century suburbs and indeed is still reigning supreme in the newbuild estates throughout the south.  All mouth and no trousers, these days. The developers spend money on the facades and leave the house itself poorly furnished in terms of sustainability, flexibility, use.   We look in vain for cellars, storage space, gardens, fireproofing…  

Still the Victorians knew what worked best and built - even in poorer districts - with confidence and quality. The brickwork and ornamentation is still really attractive. The contrast, when you hit Croydon is astonishing. Here every single domestic value has been junked in favour of glittering glass-faced towers with fantastic competitive styling and glitz.  Since this is the year of lockdown and zoom, we wonder if these towers will ever really be wanted. They look magnificently wicked but they may well be much less use than the Victorian streets which they replace.

So much of England is hopelessly out of date. Main A-roads wind along narrow country lanes… with hedges and fields. There is some glory in seeing how ancient landuse still prevails according to the geology… so in a remote outer suburb where clearly building values would be very high, nonetheless, on a one-mile strip of road across sandy soil, there are nine or ten market-gardens, a lavender farm (with flocks of families of African descent wandering among the rows of purple).  The market gardens - some open to the public as garden centres, some with poly tunnels, some much more pre-war in appearance - must still be earning enough money to resist selling up for housing.  You get this tenacious little patch of medieval landworking, in strips, with the Great Wen nearly surrounding it.

Our campsite is past Pulborough, not far from the Roman villa a Bignor.  The lanes approaching are pretty well free of traffic but the edges of the road are well-worn and beaten down, from constant parking over a long period of time. Not this year, presumably. 

We drive in past a rising field with one or two caravans or tents tucked into the edges of an open sunny field, and up a driveway to a huddle of pretty ropey old huts and sheds.  We are asked - did you get the email?  Our card machine isn’t working…… Are you electric or…..?   We say we are electric (true!), and are directed to a long mown strip cut through some tall old woodland… pines and oaks.   There is a double electricity supply cable slung above it, all the way.   Cars and tents are lined up down one edge, very very very close together.    Despite our fears, it seems there is a toilet and a shower facility set up in those sheds.   We have never ever camped so close to other people. I am thinking of Glastonbury … Social distancing is nowhere near this.   The owner looks like the Landlord on telly - a bruiser, in a golf buggy.  He’s affable but wants to know how and when we can pay. 

He says he used to come here w his grandad when he was little, to buy eggs. The grandad and the guy who owned the land had both been in the RAF, so they did business… He came back to visit and found the sons/family of the owner were selling it, so he bought it, though he is in reality a building in London.  Andrew said, we had often thought of running a campsite and quick as a flash he said ‘Wanna buy this?’     He’s only had it a few months, and seems to be regretting his decision.    He has a full-time business on his hands already.

It clearly has potential, but needs so much done to it… the whole thing is under-invested. The woods are lovely, but it needs opening up to offer more pitches, and it needs proper facilities such as water, rubbish disposal… etc etc.    In some ways it’s like a campsite in the 1970s - if you remember that Mike Leigh film Nuts in May…. which was filmed at the wonderful campsite near Corfe Castle, where we went to stay several times.    Trouble is, we are older now, and expect more. We have done our rough camping. We have been to France and Spain where the campsites are properly funded and are very civilised….. This is Britain in 2020. A wilful cheerful ignorance prevails. ‘We are inadequate and we like it like this. We don’t want to join in, or be up to date. We like bodges … We expect people to put up with things……  Yes, the pitches ARE that close together…….’    Our man has a lot to do. Will he do it? If someone wants a really good project, this could be it.  The Brits will not be flying off to Spain or Italy for a while. They will seek out home-grown holidays. Happy camping! 

It's lovely to be able to take time out to paint these trees, even though I feel very hemmed in...

All change

Leaving Malta, in March, where the lockdown was being effectively put into place, was strange enough. The main point was that most people seemed compliant. The supermarket queues looked so strange and irritating to us, but little did we know what chaos and confusion we would have to live through for the next several months in Britain.  Our flight home was about half full.  It was perhaps the last EasyJet plane out of Malta. 

Here our government seemed hopelessly out of touch. Common-sense precautions were delayed for months, if put into effect at all.

Planes are now mostly grounded. We hear the airlines have scrapped all the old ones. The skies have been clear and quiet. The occasional military flight, far higher than normal commercial flights, leaves a distinct trace in the perfect blue.  

The excellent summer weather - bordering on drought - has made life tolerable as we faced the worst fears imaginable, but carried on with gardening, cautious shopping, zoom-calling, missing our dear ones. People have died in their tens of thousands.

We contemplate another huge depression as the disastrous effects of Brexit are forced onto us... plus the lockdown which has shut all hotels, shops, restaurants and pubs, parks, theatres, concert-halls, any place where people gather.  Though the government has encouraged race meetings (where the directors are friends or family of cabinet members).  As things were loosened, people went in their tens of thousands to the beaches, hugger mugger...  leaving tons and tons of filth and litter as they dragged home.  As the infection rates had been sinking, gradually, then they started to rise again.   Schools must shut. Schools must open. Grannies cannot see their little ones, but cleaners and nannies may go in and out.   All beauty parlours and hairdressers must shut, or perhaps open.  People must stand 2m apart, or 1m.     So companies have gone bankrupt.  The travel industry is reduced to miniscule amounts... who wants to travel in a closed space with strangers for hours?  I foresee a total economic collapse, as in the Great Depression - and that lasted 10 years.  Eventually the banks themselves, and the insurance companies, will take hits.... who foresaw the collapse of Equitable Life, or Lehmann Brothers?  I wonder if money will survive? Pensions?  This may sound grim - but honestly, who, five years ago, would have predicted Britain crashing out of the best trade arrangements in history, the most peaceable... and on a voluntary basis, and  fighting in the streets about who should or should not wear a mask?

Maks? Hijab? Race riots in America and growling injustices here too... Race riots!!!!! A racist president in the White House openly inciting violence.  And we, peaceable us, are (in a small way) stockpiling dried and tinned foods.... And JuicePlus+ too I think.  Will the supply chains break down? It's entirely foreseeable that many many household items and food goods will become very very scarce.  

   

We are actually putting a box of some of these stored foods into the VW, along with amusements, awning, bedding etc, because we are going camping in Sussex for a few days. Lucie who came here on holiday for a week after 3 months solo in her flat, stayed on for six weeks, but we will drop her in Forest Hill and then go on to Pulborough.   She has been working from here, a sea-swimming, and biking, and wild camping with her intrepid friend Miranda who biked round the world on her own not long ago.   Various friends have been here to party in a quiet way.. the social distancing acting as a kind of safety net.  John and Laura Pool, Tasha and Tom Day (who have moved to her folks' place at Luddenham while they househunt and wait for their baby to be born), Tom Sutton Roberts, Daisy Perkins, Hannah who's down from Edinburgh, so her social scene has not been just us crumblies.  She likes it here (free hotel).

So much has happened. So many shocks and fears. It has been, or is, like being in the first act of a dark opera... so far, everything seems to be going along ok... but we know, we all know that catastrophe is about to strike. And again, and again.   The second act will start during this winter.   

But today, after a hectic, frantic fortnight campaigning against a planning application on Ordnance Wharf, in which I succeeded in getting Jonathan Neame to put in an objection, we are off till Tuesday camping in Andrew's VW.  I am not really looking forward to it.  No facilities, no wifi.  I have a lot of art work to catch up on.... loving my ten week deep course in feeling-art.  Already seeing changes.  Have a bag packed with art materials and somehow have to negotiate Andrew's urges to always be doing something. No rest.  Though he walks much more slowly than me.  Weird. 

Airport

After several days of anxiety and speculation about our flight home being cancelled, here we are at the airport. All looks fine.

We heard the Portuguese airports are 'rammed'.  This is empty.  Hardly anyone about.  I think the whole place will have closed down completely by the weekend. Lockdown all around Europe.

The car hire check-in man was born in Canterbury, lived in Deal for years, moved to Malta a few months ago. Loves it. Wants to retire to Gozo.  Has no regrets.  He said our car had no new damage on it, which was great.... we had wondered, as every single panel had a scrape or a dint on it somewhere..... He said, 'No wonder the Maltese only drive old cars!'  

       

The day today was cool, grey, very British.   That made it less of a pain having to spend so many hours waiting at the airport .... which seemed sensible in case of any disruptions (plus so many places closed all around... nowhere else much to go!)  The sun has come out now but we are upstairs in the Departure lounge.  Small airports are so nice.         Clean, quiet, comfortable even.   We have access to sockets to charge up our phones.   

We'll be boarding  in about an hour. This bulletin is not very powerful, sorry!  It's more a way of filling in time while we wait. 

The internet is ALIVE with  opinions, community groupings, advice, suggestions, rumours, warnings.  Almost everything has been cancelled.  People are worrying whether they will be allowed to go for a walk. Especially if they are 'old'. I do wonder what we are going back to!  People  have been posting photos of the empty shelves at the Faversham supermarkets.  A kind of madness seems to have seized people.... anxiety,  survival instinct, propriety.  'SMINE!!!'  

What a world!

Intimations of apocalyptic times

We had a quiet day, overshadowed by the effects of the reactions to the virus. How fast it has changed everything. The family are still urging us to get home quick - the airline is about to cancel flights, they say… but the website says all is ok.  The flight is still on time.  We checked with the travel insurance: we’re both covered for up to £5k for disruption, if the airline cancels. There are now no flights earlier than the one we’re booked on tomorrow evening anyway. So we’re hoping for a smooth journey home…. and crossing fingers for no bad news by email from Easyjet.

Today we stayed in the local area - a walk, and a coffee.  The cafe was very quiet... the owner was distracted by what's going on, delighted we had stopped. Then we went for a quiet stroll. In the deep gorge running down through the town we saw the only swimming pool we've seen this week...maybe belonging to a fancy hotel/spa nearby. No-one was in it, but the gardens all around were pretty and made a change from the dry, stony, structural nature of the whole place. Then we were looking for lunch, and amazingly we found a place which was open! Truth to tell we had an indifferent meal, but the building was amazing - we wouldn’t have gone in otherwise…. It was once a quarry, then a hostel with stables on the ground floor with rooms above, a bomb-shelter, a tunnel to the old church half a kilometre away,  a school, a residence, and now a ‘traditional’ eating house. The waiter first looked after us with bare hands, but half-way through the meal appeared with blue surgical gloves on. 

   

  

Later we drove round to the local bay - brilliant blue water, some wind-surfers and para-surfers taking advantage of the very brisk and chilly wind. Out on the far horizon, like a ghost, a huge tall sailing ship skudded across, with gleaming white sails. (This was apparently the Shtandart Swedish sailing vessel en route to Sicily then Sète in France). It looked quite apocalyptic. 

     

   

All around us, people are making deep dark changes to their planned life.  Quite unprecedented in my lifetime, and maybe since the 17th century…. (plague).   Facebook is full of it, and Twitter. Events cancelled. Announcements of social isolation, self-imposed, or maybe (who knows) enforced by the authorities, or vigilantes?  Arguments about what we should all be doing. There is a lot of virtue-signalling. Also a lot of fear and anxiety.  And I detect a sort of ghoulish gung-ho spirit: this is how we’re going to tackle the problem. Weird dissonant announcements and interpretations, based on - what, exactly? Guesses? The experience of other countries (where things may be different)? Already, the military have been ‘activated’ in Bern, in Switzerland…. for support and logistics…. so that’s martial law, isn’t it?  Who can walk where? What changes are made while we are all so preoccupied with this? May’s elections have been cancelled.  Lockdown. Cancellations. Travel bans. Shortages in shops. Rationing?  Who knows?  Who really is the expert? 

The CEO of Sainsbury’s sent out an email today in which he said they have plenty of supplies in their warehouses. He just needs customers to be temperate in their purchases, stop bulk-buying, take only what’s necessary.   His staff will work hard to make sure we all get what we need.  He signed off: ‘Best wishes, Mike’.   Mike!  

An Italian guy (wind surfer) down by the bay said Britain ‘always’ wins. He admires how we’re leaving the EU. Adamant. 

Around him, old and new boats on the quay were presumably waiting for buyers… some beautiful old fishing boats, with three props; a big old wooden trawler type, also with three props (and three engines?); some modern steel vessels, two of which had eyes on either side of the prow.    

      

We bought two artichokes for our supper this evening from yet another tiny local grocers… the two gangways were so narrow and awkward we had to wait to get through. Although it was all very small and dark, like all these tiny shops it was crammed with every kind of tinned and packed food you could possibly want. Only the greengrocery looked a bit sad. 

 I meant to say earlier, so many of the houses here have names - St Andrew, St  Rita, Stella Maris, Mater Dei, Good House… And so many have tiny plaques beside the front doors, dedicated to the Virgin and Child. Really, we have seen dozens, maybe hundreds.  It’s as if the Fat Ladies of Malta have left the island in Her capable hands… the goddess is still waiting, everywhere you look. It’s a lovely place. 

Fishing

During the night, urgent and well informed messages from family (one being a travel expert, another a health expert) were pushing for us to at least investigate getting home early.  However, the airline was really very backward in coming forward with any information or guidance.  One auto-response said they’d get back to us in 28 days. Another said the helplines and chatlines are not open for a few hours yet and are in any case very busy.  We were faced with our own powerlessness. Step One! 

Being Sunday, it had always been our plan to go south to Marsaxlokk, the fishing village with a colourful market and harbour, so that’s what we did. The route skirting the inner suburbs of Valletta was exciting to say the least, with violent swoops and turns, short-notice changes of lane, and the satnav unable to keep up.  However, of course, in the end we made it down to the quay, a wide and colourful place filled with bobbing boats, huge cranes on the skyline at the freeport, a massive gas-tanker-ship out at anchor, and a lot of hopeful market traders with masses of gleaming fish, veg, leather goods, dried foods, trinkets and the like.    

    

   

  

However, there were really hardly any visitors.  A glum atmosphere pervaded. There were some French visitors, but I think most were British, and as far as we could hear, everyone was talking about coronavirus and its dire consequences.  We had a coffee, mooched around.  We need not have worried about avoiding crowds… there were hardly any.  The water was pretty clean, we could see baby fish in the depths.  

The name Marsaxlokk comes from a wind, which blows from the south. The fish on sale were very varied, some obviously farmed  (you can see the tanks out in the bays), but some so bright and shining and unusual that they must have just come out of the depths in a time honoured way. 

  

We stopped for another refreshment and a Geordie lass leapt up to take our photo for us…. she had moved to Malta a few months ago. She loved it.  Her cleavage was spectacular. Her skirt was very short and the snakeskin belt very tight. Her thick black tights had impressive ladders in them. She had the company of two guys for her coffee break and kept urging us to move to the island.  Why go back? she asked.  Why not stay?  She had heard that the government was going to impose a lockdown from 19th-24th, and then stop it. 

We walked back and round to the eastern end, to a handy little beach, and into a tourist office. The instant and obligatory hand-sanitising meant we could talk to the lady sitting in there. She said she’d heard there might be action from the Maltese government, going on through April and May. She confirmed what we had already discovered - that all the churches and museums are now closed. The tourist industry will suffer.

 Lunch was really very good indeed at a small place set back from the quay - Terrone. The Serbian waiter and his staff were attentive, brought us our one starter to share (stuffed courgette flowers, deep fried), and then a single plate of two Striped Mullet steaks with roasted vegetables, again to share. 

  

Absolutely superb, and with a couple of desserts it came to 49€.   We have tootled back along the coast, not calling in to the temple sites or the famous Blue Grotto - just looking from a distance.   

  

We’ve checked again with EasyJet - they are waiving flight-change charges but we’d still have to pay for £68 each to get onto the midday flight home on Tuesday (first available seats)… that is just about 6 hours earlier than our original bookings, so we’re sticking with Plan A.  Back here in the flat, we hear the birdsong all around.  We have driven past miles and miles of beautiful drystone walls, some tumbling down, some so new and precise they almost hurt to look at. We stopped at a roadside veg shop and bought a little bag of chard to have for supper.  One more day (Monday), then pack up and go home on Tuesday evening DV.   

Beauty v violence

The hilltops in Malta are adorned with spectacular mini-cities of the most beautiful golden stone buildings and tiny alleys, and with highly ornamented church domes, towers, pyramids etc on the skyline, and each with a gorgeous and always violent history.  

This tension - between beauty and danger - has pervaded our ill-timed little holiday. The tsunami of the new world plague (coronavirus) has overwhelmed everything. Each day has brought a rising tide of panicky news about regulations imposed by shops, councils, governments - and maybe airlines.  We have already witnessed the local shopping madness - supermarkets limiting how many people may go into their stores: you can only go in once some other person has come out. Luckily for us we are getting our meagre supplies of say, wine, milk, bread, salads, cheese, etc. from little local epiceries, which are pretty amazing.  The internet is awash with rumours, contradictions, certainties and anguish.  The family is taking a strong line: that we should cut things short and get home immediately. Today is Sunday - trip to fishing market planned. Now considering whether to take all belongings with us and just decamp.  Pros and cons: in favour of leaving early - the tourist experience has definitely diminished quite noticeably each day with closures of venues and services. It would be nice to know we can get home. I didn’t bring enough stuff to last more than a week - including my all-precious JuicePlus capsules!   On the other hand, changing flights, relinquishing the apartment early, fixing it, may be time-consuming and stressful…. we both need a rest!

So today - we are trying to contact the airline, the landlord, decide what to do.  Not so carefree. Boo hoo.  It's hard to say if the curtailment of our planned activities is a good thing or not...

Yesterday we went to Mosta to see the Dome - but it was closed on orders of the archbishop. I drew it instead. Andrew sneaked a peek by talking to a builder. 

We had lunch in Mdina - where lots of things were closed. The silent city was actually quite quiet, apart from birdsong. These places are full of spectacular buildings, grand, egotistical, heroic, splendid.   

    

As in so many islands we have visited, the northern areas are by far the most beautiful, being less scorched by the summer’s heat. Our pretty view from our lunch terrace was over small fields and greenery, quite comforting and restful.   The owner of a gift shop was looking very melancholy indeed. The rumours of lockdown are everywhere. Her shop - which would on a normal Saturday be full of people - was empty. She was selling loads of things at halfprice.  The security man we spoke to at Xhaghra had said there were no coach tours. No doubt the boat-based tourist trips will all have to stop. It's an economic disaster for this island. This may be the only thing holding the Maltese government back from issuing lockdown orders...... 

  

We found the Victoria Lines - a bit of late 19thc British military engineering designed to thwart any dastardly enemies who might want to sneak in and seize the all-important naval ports in the south (especially after the opening of the Suez canal) by attacking from the north. So they built a 12km wall, not very high, but taking advantage of a natural outcrop or ridge of rock… It was never tested in battle, and is now a place of wild flowers, bees, peasant farms, hikers and and pretty views. 

 We ended our rather self-isolating wanderings by going to a beach... lovely clear water, a few fish, some boats. 

Once again we found that the food portions served in restaurants is far too large - we shared one starter and one main meal - couldn’t finish it - came home at last and picked at an artichoke for supper.