GO, GO, GOZO

“Wake me up before you Gozo” sang a tanned George Michael gyrating sexily in a pair of skin-tight speedos whilst trying to entice me for a sunlit swim in a blue lagoon under a rocky arch. I rolled over in bed only to find George had sadly disappeared, replaced by what looked like a recumbent farting walrus. Parrrrp!! Yep, that’s the most sense you’ll get out of the other half at this time of the morning.

Here’s what the holiday guidebooks don’t tell you about the ‘beautiful’ island of Gozo – it’s nothing more than a god-forsaken windswept rock with more holes in its’ coastline than a Swiss cheese.

Getting to Gozo from Valletta involves a ride on the Gozo fast ferry (15 euros per person return ticket) which usually takes about 45 mins. Here’s what the guidebooks also fail to mention, the sea separating Malta from Gozo and Comino can get a bit choppy. Now when I say a ‘bit’ choppy, what I mean is having a greasy full English beforehand is definitely going to summon the chunder demon.

Gozo Fast Ferry

Sailing at speed on a fast catamaran into headlong winds is just asking for trouble. At one point, I almost dislocated a kneecap when the airborne boat belly-slammed back into the briny with all the force of Thor’s hammer.

Ear plugs are recommended for this trip to drown out the sound of other passengers puking their pastizzis (a local pastry) into brown paper bags thoughtfully provided by the ferry company.

Once on Gozo, what’s there to do? I fancied a day at the beach but being nothing more than a rocky lump bordered on most sides by high cliffs then this is almost impossible.

Another invaluable holiday tip to save you hours of mindless internet surfing, if you want sun, sea and sand then Ramla Beach is the only sandy beach on Gozo.

The fast ferry docks at Vapur and almost opposite is a bus stop where you can catch a bus to a place called Marsalforn. Get off at the stop called Ramla. 

Ferry terminal and harbour

Warning – Maltese bus drivers have a unique Kamikaze style of driving so you have to hang onto your beach hat as they fling you round those ‘Hail Mary’ winding corners. From there it is a short walk to a lovely sandy cove.

No need to worry about provisions because there’s a handy snack kiosk serving a delicious selection of fast food (burgers, hot dogs, chips) and of course, pastizzis which have become part of our staple Maltese diet.

Pastizzi anyone?

At the entrance to the beach itself is the obligatory taverna, public loos and souvenir stall. This beach is more than equipped for grockles and judging by the numbers of other brave travellers, it’s the most popular place in town.

Ramla Beach

Lots of rocks to anchor down towels from prevailing winds

And to build towers if it's too cold to swim

No, sorry I’ve lied because the most popular place in town appears to be the capital Victoria (Rabat) which can be reached directly from Ramla Beach by a bus that takes you straight to the town’s bus station.

Victoria - very crowded

Victoria is probably half the size of Valletta but appears twice as busy. It’s wall to wall coach parties most of them heading to the Citadel, a fortified structure that contains cathedral, museums and most of the other sightseeing attractions in town. 

The Citadel

It’s at the top of a fairly steep hill. Even the local cats can’t be bothered to make the arduous trek up there. And if you have, there’s no entry without a ticket.

I can't be bothered to climb this hill

All this heat, humans and the thought of another choppy boat ride back to Valletta has put me right off dinner. Still, there’s always beer o’clock to take your mind off things.

I'll just sit here in the shade to watch the world go by

St George's Basilica

Back to Vapur to catch the boat home

MALTESE FALCON

Okay so it’s a pigeon, not a falcon but I am in Malta keeping an eye out for anything vaguely resembling birds of prey.

Is that a Maltese Falcon?

Since the advent of smartphones, everyone’s life has become a mini movie shared with the world at large. Whether we want to watch it or not, is a different story.

We’re sat outside a lovely Italian trattoria (Da Pablo) in Valletta enjoying the ambiance, the delicious complimentary bread with balsamic vinegar and a glass of chilled beer when suddenly our holiday meal is gate-crashed by two bimbos who ignoring all diners, proceed to turn the restaurant into their own personal film set.

Restaurant and movie set

Lead actor, a brunette with more paint on her face than the Sistine Chapel, orders a glass of red vino. A cheeky little vintage which she then proceeds to swirl round and round. Perhaps not the greatest idea when wearing a beige ensemble straight out of the Kelly Hoppen holiday wear catalogue. Let’s hope she’s got a firm grip on that glass, I thought. I watched bemused and so did everyone else tucking into dinner.

Having been given directions on where to sit/stand/speak by her phone pointing movie-producing buddy, it’s Lights! Camera! Action! And so, a curious scene unfurls directly behind the other half who is busily stuffing huge quantities of carbonara pasta into his mouth in case there’s a biblical famine.

First, she sits holding the wine glass looking to camera for a few close ups, pouting like a halibut gasping for air. A swish of hair this way, then that way. Another pout. Wine glass aloft. Then put down again. Another pout and swish of heavily dyed locks. A sip of wine but not too much so as not to ruin her lippy.

With silent takes complete, time for scripted dialogue. Our leading lady pirouettes gracefully round the table next door where a man tucking into a huge bowl of moules mariniere almost has his pint knocked into his lap as she breezes past, oblivious to the fact that people are here to eat and not be a supporting cast.

She poses in the trattoria’s red doorway theatrically, glass in hand like Keith Floyd in a bad cooking commercial. Pout. Swish. Sashay away, winding round the tables in eel-like fashion. She eventually slips back into her seat with all the grace of a bowl of muesli, all the while gabbling away ten-to-the-dozen in some foreign tongue.

What could she be saying? I wondered. Can’t be a wine review, she’s hardly touched a drop. Food critic? Nah, not the way she swatted away that menu bearing waiter as if dismissing an annoying fly. Perhaps she’s one of those ‘influencers’ who like nothing better than to pose around in their best togs looking like they’re having the greatest holiday ever when the reality is they’re stuck in a shit room in some cheap hotel full of stag parties or Germans.

We’re almost on dessert when finally after about half a dozen takes, it’s a wrap. She leaves the untouched wine glass on the red checked tablecloth then flounces off whilst her friend settles the bar bill. The waiter flicks me a look that says ‘what the hell was that all about?’ before laying down some clean cutlery in case there’s a sequel.

What is the world coming to? I’m looking forward to a week’s worth of entertaining holiday dining. Maybe tomorrow I could audition for a speaking part! Failing that, I’ll just photo-bomb filming whilst coughing or farting loudly.

View from Valletta

UNPAID JOBS

I may have joined the ranks of the unemployed or ‘economically inactive’ since taking early retirement but the list of unpaid jobs I hold only seems to get longer as time goes on.

These are just some of the roles the public at large have taken on for which we’re not paid or receive any share of the benefits recouped from the companies who’ve now foisted these tasks upon us without even asking if we want to do them in the first place:

Supermarket checkouts – scan your own shopping but don’t think of getting it any cheaper now we’ve sacked all the cashiers.

Airport baggage desk – print a label, stick it on then heft your suitcase on the conveyor belt. Ha! Did you think we’d do it for you?

Tax Technician – Making Tax Digital so you can do HMRC’s work and they can retire early on gold plated pensions.

Bank clerk – manage your finances online then we can boost profits by closing branches and making staff redundant.

Financier – manage your pensions/investments online although we’ll still charge you an annual fund management fee for the privilege of doing so.

Carer – look after your own old fogeys as we can’t afford to do so from the public purse anymore.

School holiday childcare – boost the economy by spending an arm/leg to keep darling grandchildren entertained because parents can’t be arsed to.

Delivery driver – shop online then pick up your own parcels as this will free up costly warehouse space and save us paying couriers.

Librarian – pick a good read then scan it at the computer terminal on your way out. No reductions on council tax though.

Internet Content Provider – yeah, even mindless blogging makes money for someone somewhere.

Bank of Mum & Dad – purveyor of cheap loans, housing deposits etc, Ha!  The financial risk is all on you.

Recycling Operative – sort your own garbage but we’ll sell it then keep the profits.

Energy Supplier – help make Britain energy self-sufficient by harvesting renewables for the nation. Paying you a SEG tariff is still cheaper for the Government than importing fossil fuels or paying solar farms to switch off.

Cash Cow – taxpayer bailouts for Government policies, cock-ups and U turns. The money’s got to come from somewhere, hasn’t it?


With the advent of AI and continued automation of the workplace, the list of unpaid jobs we’ll be taking on is liable to get longer and longer. What we won’t see is any likely financial benefit in our pockets.

Jog on if you think company cost savings on staff or premises are going to be passed on to customers in the form of cheaper prices. Fat cats will get fatter while we will continue to be dumped on.

DORMER DONE

Final day of dormer work. We’re 2 hours in and thank goodness no other horrors have been discovered. Fingers crossed it continues this way until the end.

Where there was once a void between plasterboard and the exterior cladding, there are now various layers of breathable membrane and thick foam board insulation (Celotex) to keep us toasty when using the upstairs bathroom.

Rather than use UPVC or cement board cladding to cover the exterior, I have copied many of the other neighbourhood dormers and decided on dark roofing tiles instead. These should blend in better with the existing roof tiles, be very durable and look less dirty than white cladding.

Dark brown roofing tiles instead of cladding

The handy blokes have done a very neat job of battening round the windows and hanging the tiles. It’s already starting to look a lot nicer than the old dormer but the key thing is whether or not the added insulation will cut down on condensation often leading to black mould on the bathroom ceiling after a few hot showers. I’ll be keeping a close eye on this.

Lovely neat battening

Lashings of insulation, new rubber roof properly angled to prevent pooling water and guttering added. In short, it’s almost a completely new dormer less a full re-build.

My one gripe because there’s always something that’s less than perfect in my own little world is that they’ve left a line of exposed ragged edges at the point where the roofing tiles join the lead flashing. I would have expected a bit of brown trim or something to cover the exposed gap.  Maybe I'm just fussing.

Should there be trim covering this ragged edge?

Actually, there is one other tiny grizzle and that is in the way the tiles have been hung. They are perfectly straight but I feel the overall appearance might have looked better if the overlap rows had been closer together. I realise this would have meant using more tiles, maybe a tighter overlap may have provided greater weather-proofing as well as looking less clunky. God, you’re so picky!

Maybe the overlaps could have been tighter together?

Otherwise, great job chaps.  Very happy with my super-pimped rear dormer. Roll on winter as I can’t wait to see whether the bathroom is warmer in the mornings or not.

A great job done