Back to being me

What a year it’s been. Most  days it has felt like a roller coaster ride on the edge of a precipice. Work can do that to you sometimes – make you feel overwhelmed and out of your depth. And with this island being so small, there’s a dearth of places that you can run away to. But it wasn’t running away that I needed to do. It was more like finding myself again. All the stress and craziness had changed a part of me that I couldn’t quite define. But I could feel it and so could those around me. I felt like there were little mice {on speed} on a wheel in my head and they kept it turning and turning until I seemed to be constantly running to a destination I could not reach. I had no patience for anything – not even for the things I loved.

But finally the mice are still (or maybe they’ve died) and, over the holidays and nine blissful days away from work, I am back to being me. I am able to blog. Thanks to my own personal Santa and his mischievous little helper elf, I have a small pile of books to read. And, perhaps most importantly, I am back to wandering with my faithful camera and the added challenge to shoot on manual. It will take practice. But I think I will get there. It has been something I’ve been wanting to learn for a long time.

As you’ve probably already heard me say, I do not make new year’s resolutions. But I think that this year I will make just one. I work in an industry where, even if you’ve been doing your job perfectly, you  may still wake up one morning and be given your marching orders. So when the working day is over and I walk out of the office door, I plan to leave it all behind. It will still be there in the morning anyway. And if it’s not, it’s not worth worrying over.

You all know that I rarely write about personal life, preferring to focus on the ethereal and the imaginary. Well, I think it’s time to break the rules a bit.

I look forward to joining you all on whatever adventures 2015 decides to take you. Through your friendship and your wonderful words and images I can visit Provence, Vietnam, Spain, Versailles, Brussels and so  many other places without even leaving my seat and I am all the richer for it.

I would like to wish you all a wonderful 2015. May you all achieve whatever your hearts are secretly yearning for.

Locations: Mtarfa, Dingli Cliffs and Ghar Lapsi ~ December 2014

Wishing you wonder and joy

I am a procrastinator. But usually there is a method to the mayhem. My brain seems to be programmed to know exactly when I need to buckle up and stop walking the thin line between just-on-time and overdue. It’s a game I play with myself. I suppose that getting things done in the nick of time gives me some type of crazy adrenaline rush.

This year I did not even have the choice to procrastinate and do things at my own pace. I was forced to leave everything until the last minute. The past couple of days have been a blur of shopping, cleaning, wrapping and baking. Until yesterday our office/playroom looked like this.

Not pretty, I know, but it looks much better today. All I can say is I am so thankful for online shopping because if I had to trudge through the stores with the rest of humanity, most people would still be without a gift. With the obligatory shopping taken care of and after a marathon of wrapping, it was time for some baking with the Mischief Maker. I think it was while my hands were sticky with cookie dough and I was busy dunking cookies alternately in powdered cinnamon and icing sugar that the realization hit me that this simple act of making chocolate crinkle cookies with my favourite chatter-box was making my heart burst with joy.

In the hectic pace of last-minute chores I found comfort in the knowledge that I finally had time to indulge in family-time and in making memories. And as I lined the rather imperfectly shaped cookies on the baking sheet, I smiled broadly in the knowledge that I had stumbled onto a serendipitous moment that no amount of chaos outside it will ever erase.

On a day when all the ‘To Do’ lists did not seem to be getting any shorter, I can truly say that none of that matters; that we take too much upon ourselves and try to achieve perfection in a very imperfect world; that we worry ourselves silly because our tree is crooked and, horror of horrors, we completely forgot to vacuum the carpets.

But none of that matters. It never should have mattered anyway and I’ve made a promise to myself that it never will again. Christmas is about joy. It is about wonder. And it is what I wish for all of you. Wonder and Joy. The rest is just tinsel on the crooked Christmas tree.

For those of you who asked what I was studying, well, it’s rather complicated but you can find a very brief summary here.

Wishing you and your loved ones a very happy and blessed Christmas!

Whatever the outcome, it’s finally over.

Hello everyone. After 4 very crazy months of working, training, studying and just generally trying to keep my head above water (with much help from my family), I can finally say that my test is behind me and I can go back to doing what I love to do. Picking up my books again after 20 years was hard but giving up my personal free time, when I already seem to have so little of it, was a great deal harder. But that’s all behind me now and if this whole experience has taught me one thing it’s that, despite my scientific streak, I always was and always will be a lover of words; the more I studied indisputable scientific facts, the more I missed the dreamy world of the written word.

So, to make up for that, I have a number of books on my Christmas wish-list this year. We’ll see if ‘Santa’ will oblige. I hope so, because I’ve been very, very good. Apart from Amazon, there are two other sites I love to purchase books from: World of Books (which is a website that sells used books) and Play (where you can buy new or used books and shipping is free to any destination in Europe). I know that we are just a week away from Christmas but if you are planning on buying a book for a loved one or a friend and need some recommendations, head on over to Jeanne’s Brown Paper Book Club. I am sure you will find something that you like.

I’ll keep it short for today as I am sure you are all busy preparing for the most wonderful day of them all. But don’t get too preoccupied with things, unleash your inner child and enjoy the magic of this beautiful season.

Soon

Soon it will be all over and I will be back. Just counting down the days now. Staying away from here has been hard – harder than I could have thought possible. I’ve made a vow to  myself that if I ever pick up books to study again, it will be for my own pleasure; a subject I thoroughly enjoy.

Just wanted to let you know that I haven’t dropped off of the face of the planet. At least, not yet. Hope you are all enjoying the most wonderful of all seasons.

Remembering the Great War

In the town where I live, there is an old naval hospital. It was built by the British in the early years of the last century. Today, part of it is a boys’ school but the part at the rear is abandoned, run-down, eerily silent.

I often go for walks in the grounds. The silent, vacant windows stare blindly at me. I wonder whether they’re still there, the ghosts of the soldiers of the Great War.

Because they brought them here, you see, the shell-shocked and weary, the wounded and weak. From the trenches of the Dardanelles and Salonika; they brought them here to heal. They brought them here to die. And those that succumbed to their wounds were laid to rest on this rocky island, far, far away from home.

One hundred years ago the world was in turmoil. The face of Europe  defaced by trenches that zig-zagged across it like open wounds; wounds that, despite the armistice four long years later, would not heal. Wounds that would spawn another, nastier, deadlier war. It was the end of the age of innocence. Life would never be the same again.

It has been a poignant year. A year of commemorating the start of the Great War and the beginning of the end of the second World War. To those that fought, whether they lived or died, we owe much more than my simple tribute can ever express. We are forever indebted to their bravery and their sacrifice.

*************************************************

During the Frist World War, Malta earned the title of Nurse of the Mediterranean when thousands of soldiers from the Gallipoli campaign were brought here to convalesce.

For the sake of historical accuracy, I would like to clarify that the hospital I mentioned in my opening paragraph was only partially completed during the First World War and it is debatable whether wounded soldiers were taken there during this conflict. However, the website of the Royal Army Medical Corps does mention that soldiers suffering from infectious diseases were treated there.

Location: Sir David Bruce Royal Naval Hospital, Mtarfa, November 2014

Like Confetti In My Head

The remnants of hurricane Gonzalo hit our shores with fierce winds and not much else – no rain, no thunderstorms – just a few solitary clouds that sailed swiftly across the sky like huge sailing ships.

Cocooned in the stillness of our home. I absent-mindedly stare at the blinking cursor and empty screen. Silence envelopes me. The words are there but they are jumbled up, like confetti in my head; my notebooks full of unfinished sentences. I have a strange feeling of deja-vu`; of having gone through such a phase before – this semblance of outer calm and inner turmoil.

I know the cure is to immerse myself in a good book or two, but it’s been three weeks since I finished Love in the Time of Cholera and I haven’t started anything new. I have an exam coming up in December and the little free time I have is now taken up with pharmaceutical textbooks and legislation. It’s been almost 20 years since I last sat for an exam. I suddenly seem to have landed in a slightly alien world.

And speaking of aliens, I came across this little guy in our back-yard a few weeks ago.

As I focused on him and the camera made its little high-pitched noises, he lifted his head and looked at me. Maybe my camera spoke his language. He was a tiny thing, but he made me smile. It’s the little things, it’s always the little things, that brighten up my  day. But even though I’m not the type who wishes time away, (I’m getting too old for that) I am honestly counting the days to mid-December, when all this jitteriness will be behind me.

So now you know why I’m blogging less and only commenting sporadically on your posts. Wishing you all a world of cute little aliens – unless they make you run a mile - and I hope there are no exams on your horizons.

Shifting Tides

The seasons are shifting. The days are getting shorter. Sometimes, when I wake up, the rosy fingers of dawn are just starting to caress the morning sky. The air is cool and sweet. It smells of dew and reminds me of mysterious things. I linger by a window sometimes, enjoying the silent serenity. Then the neighbour’s dog barks. The spell is broken.

In those few moments that I spend with the dawn, gazing at the valley and fields, the retreating darkness fools me into thinking that nothing much has changed over the years, that the view outside my window is the same now as it was fifty years ago, five hundred years ago. But as I turn to face the day, reality comes flooding back. We live in a horrible world. Ebola, ISIS, tension in Ukraine, famine, murder, child abuse … my mind reels from the sickening brutality of it all. I want to return to my window. To that moment of peace, before the harsh light of day thrusts the unpalatable truth into the spotlight.

The tides are shifting and we are being carried along with them. The outcome may be bleak. Or we might rise above the chaos and witness humanity’s finest hour. That is what I want to believe. Maybe it’s what we all need to believe.

It’s a scary world out there and I try not to dwell on it too much. After all, our collective destiny is very rarely in our hands. When people woke up, on that fateful June day one hundred years ago, they were blissfully unaware that a murder in Sarajevo would plunge the world into war not once, but twice. In the grand scheme of things, we are but pawns in history’s game of chess.

Yes, the tides are shifting, but tomorrow the sun will still rise in the east and set in the west. The dew will lie heavy on the  leaves and will luminesce like pearls, before the warmth of the sun will make it rise like a wraith to the blue skies above. The last cricket will sing and the waves will hug the shore as they have done for thousands of years. Life will go on.

Tide-out, St Ives, Cornwall ~ July 2012

Fabulous Fridays: Notting Hill

I know that I said I wouldn’t write about London for a while. But when I recently found myself watching the movie all over again to remember the vibe of the place, I knew that I just had to bow to the muse. Incidentally, was it Notting Hill that made the movie famous or was it the other way around?

I happened to just love this London neighbourhood. It is quirky, with a plethora of vintage clothing stores and little boutiques.

You’ll find art everywhere – not just in galleries.

The houses are painted in the most fascinating and vibrant shades.

It had such a friendly, relaxed atmosphere that it’s hard to believe we were not too far from central London. Notting Hill truly felt like an area of London that I wouldn’t mind living in. Of course, that assumption may be based on the number of bookstores that we came across.

Yes, it definitely felt curiously homely, which is not usually an adjective that I associate with London.

So there you have it – Notting Hill in a nutshell.

And of course, I could not resist sharing this:

That Elusive Something

My son’s friend turned eight yesterday. So a bonfire was the order of the day (or rather, night). We cooked sausages on sticks and toasted marshmallows to make Smores, their melted gooiness sticking to our fingers and faces, as the velvety darkness caressed our skin and the crickets sang their humble serenade. It was the last hurrah, the final nod to summer before saying farewell. School starts next week; and it will all begin all over again.

I made many plans before summer started but the days relentlessly  marched on, turning into weeks and then months, as I floundered around trying to find some respite from the heat and not accomplishing mush else. It is the story of every summer. Or at least, it is my story - of hours wasted, lounging behind shuttered windows, desperately seeking that elusive something – the something that the French call the je ne sais quoi.

Because summer, you see, is about making memories. It is about looking back, many years later, and forgetting the heat and the humidity and the pesky bugs and remembering only those moments that stand out in time because of their simplicity and the heart-warming feelings that they evoke.

Time always flies beyond our reach and I always seem to be standing on a figurative threshold, trying to catch it in a gossamer web of words and images. For soon, all that we are now will be but a shadow and all that is will become but a moment of laughter on a lilting summer breeze.

London Moments

I’ve been trying for days to define London, struggling to find just one word to describe it. Then, it dawned on me that I can’t. So I won’t. But I will share the moments that made me think ‘this is London’. It might not be your London or the guidebooks’ London. But this is my London. And these are my moments:

~ Most moving moment: Attending Sunday service at Westminster Abbey. We didn’t plan it, we just wanted to visit and forgot that it might not be open on a Sunday. But we were invited to attend the service and I am overjoyed that we did. The singing was sublime and the towering Gothic architecture made it even more so. We were not allowed to take any photos, but perhaps it was just as well, because I paid more attention to what was around me and I left the place in awe.

~ Laziest moment: sitting in the shade of a sprawling tree in Kensington Gardens and contemplating the fountains in the Italian Garden.

~ Best shop-window display: Selfridges of Oxford Street. Each window display was part of their Meet the Makers campaign which gave shoppers a chance to meet the  people behind some of the items for sale in their food court.

~Favourite historical building: I would have to confess that it’s the Tower of London. This brooding fortress on the edge of the Thames has a dark and bloody history which has fascinated me for years. I am still trying to decide whether that is a good or a bad thing.

~ Favourite historical artifact: London museums are replete with important historical finds but, for me, the absolute star was the Rosetta Stone at the British Museum. The discovery of this stone was instrumental in helping scholars decipher hieroglyphics. I remember discussing its importance many years ago during history lessons at school. Incidentally, I did not realise that the Rosetta Stone was this big.

~ Best fast-food:  it definitely had to be the sandwiches at Pret-a-Manger. There’s a wide variety to choose from and they are a healthier choice than burger and fries.

~ Most beautiful building:  in a city that is almost over-crowded with architectural gems, it’s really hard to pinpoint just one. The Royal Albert Hall, St Paul’s Cathedral and the iconic Tower Bridge all come to mind, but as we walked along Westminster Bridge and the sun started to set, it cast a golden hue on Westminster Palace (better known as the Houses of Parliament) and Big Ben and my heart just  missed a beat. I knew that this image of London would stay with me for months to come.

~ Most interesting restoration: the Covent Garden covered market. It made me think what, with some imagination, our own covered market in Valletta could be turned into. The Covent Garden market used to be a vegetable and flower market. When it was moved elsewhere because of traffic congestion, the market was restored and re-opened as a shopping centre with small boutiques, specialty stores, restaurants, cafes and a craft market.

~ Favourite neighbourhood:  Notting Hill. This pretty district with its colourful houses and vintage stores feels very different from the rest of London. What once used to be a very run-down neighbourhood is now one of the most desirable residential areas of the city. The popular Portobello street market takes place in Notting Hill every weekend. Pity we missed it.

~ Most not-sure-whether-to-scream-or-laugh moment: as we walked along a lonely garden path in Kensington Gardens, a huge rat ran out right in front of us. I doubt I would have felt so relaxed under the tree if I had known these creatures were lurking in the bushes.

Since I don’t want to bore your collective socks off, this will be my last post about London – at least for a while. Now that summer is winding down and I get back into some sort of routine, I hope to write more regularly and be able to comment a bit more. Hope you’re all enjoying the last days of the season.