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.
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