Ilbes is-Seat Belt (ta' wara)

I have not had (and probably will not have) enough time to blog seriously ( I hear the chorus of "Does he ever?" reverberate in my sick ears). A couple of non sequiturs have been thrown in the mix to keep in touch. As many of you may have guessed my incognito trip to Malta has begun. It stopped being incognito when my mother opened the door looking rather shocked and nonplussed by my presence. Surprises made, the necessity of incognito is over. I am here and anyone wishing to meet leave a comment and we will saee. I am in 'dolce far niente' mode and tend to shuttle from Paceville (morning) to Valletta (lunch) to beach (sun) and Paceville (evening & sleep).

The title of this blog refers to an interesting incident with a local warden who flabbergasted me with his insistence that I wear my seat-belt (ta'wara) notwithstanding that I was driving the car (until I understood that his panzer like command was directed to the Bananazzurro seated behind me). I will leave my alter ego Gakbu S to explain the subtle details.

"Oh! Mia Patria!" has begun to be the sigh I make whenever I see the weird and inexplicable stuff my country can still throw at me and any other casual tourist who is unaccustomed to its ways and means. I will try to find the Chorus of Slaves to place it on the site asap... but for now I have to rush off for lunch. [meanwhile for a quick listen to a sample go here]

Meanwhile in the Italian news (which I can receive perfectly on radio from my P-ville flat) they were mulling on the fact that after the London bombings it is manifestly evident that the enemy is within. Optical and digital (as in digitus - finger) recognition of all citizens will not help as much as they expected for the bombwright could be living next door with an EU citizenship of his own, having grown up in your community and might have also attended the same school or gymn as yourself.

"Spies like us" I guess.