The bird song that greeted me each morning from the edge of the little villages, and the smell from the valleys carried by the warm breeze up their steep sides to me as I start my first descent of the day, are some of the more enduring memories from Gozo. The ferry too with its pleasant 20 minute trip across the channel.

Of course, the bad sticks in there too. And my distaste for some sections of humanity grows. The convoys of white jeeps – some 10-12 long – that descend on a peaceful scenario, disgorging in a blip up to a hundred slavering sight-seekers with all their attendant disquiet. Then worse by far, convoys of quads, that come screaming by a foot from your elbow, rented to inexperienced dumb fucks with absolutely no road sense. Although the looks of outright terror on some of the pillion passengers, as they careen wildly down the steep slopes into the villages, screaming silently as they realise that their life is in the hands of the prick that said they could ride the thing, at least sparks a smile.

The incipient vertigo didn’t help. I believe that it is getting worse. The background nausea and the dizziness came on at some of the most dangerous times. But, it is what it is and we continue.

I would love to come back to Malta sometime. I’d certainly do Gozo again – though maybe the other way round and I’d avoid the nasty cliff edge stuff so that I could relax completely.

SKL – 19th April 2023