Friday

Ah, Friday, Friday a wonderful day, time to stop work and go out to play,

The week has been fraught with trouble and stress, sorting out problems and cleaning up mess,

And so it approaches, the end is in sight, shut down the computer and switch of the light,

Lock all the doors and set the alarm, assured that the office will come to no harm,

Race to get home our plans to pursue, restaurant, club, cinema oh what shall we do,

Make the most of the time to relax and stay sane,

’cause before you can blink it’ll be Monday again.

My plans for the weekend;

Spanish lessons this evening – torture. I’m the only Brit in a class of Maltese who all speak Italian which is surprisingly similar to Spanish. Guess what? I’m still trying to learn simple greetings while the rest of the class are near enough fluent.  After two hours of persecution, torture and frustration I will be ready to get absolutely legless.

Saturday – eventually wake up and deal with my hangover then watch a few episodes of Boston Legal or House. Maybe even have a mamoth all six episodes Star Wars session. Some pals over in the evening. Drink again until my liver packs it’s suitcase and heads for the hills.

Sunday – Pretty much the same as Saturday really. Relax, have a nice lunch with the family and a walk by the sea. Then at about 6pm get the same old sick sinking feeling in the stomach as the countdown to Monday begins.

Still, that’s life and on the whole it’s actually not that bad at the moment. Just watch some git come along and spoil it. Then I’ll have something interesting to write about.

Memories of England

For some reason I find myself thinking about good old blighty today.

Perhaps it’s because I’m hungry and just fancy a big battered cod with chips and mushy peas wrapped in newspaper; something sadly lacking in Malta.

Maybe it’s because I was looking at photographs of family & Friends in the UK yesterday evening and wondering how my old chums are.

Could it be that, after watching ‘The Long Way Down’ (Ewan McGregor’s and Charley Boorman’s intrepid motorcycle journey from Scotland to Cape Town)  over the weekend that; a) made me think of Scotland, one of the best places on Earth (and not just because of the single malts) and; b) made me think of my Suzuki GSXF 600 that I used to tear up the roads with.

Or maybe… just maybe, could it be the fact that the wind and rain are currently lashing against my office window like a demented demon on a mission. Yes, that’s it… memories of Summer in England come flooding back (no pun intended), along with memories of some of the reasons I agreed to move to Malta in the first place. 1) Here Winter never really bites; 2) Today is unusual weather for Malta and; 3) By the end of February it’ll start to get hotter and hotter.

While I may remember the English weather I certainly do not miss it. In fact there are only three things I really miss about England. My Mom, Pork pies and racing along pot hole free roads on my motorbike.

Here today, gone for eternity

‘Whooosh…

What was that?

That was your life passing by.

Really! So fast! Do I get another one?

No, sorry. That’s your lot I’m afraid…’ – Basil Fawlty.

It is a fact that the universe has been in existence for countless Millennia for the majority of which, we as individuals did not exist. Before we are born we do not exist and after we die we go back to a state of non-existence. In comparison to the stream of time our lives are merely unnoticeable little blips. We get one shot at life and then we’re gone.

This sounds a little depressing I know however some will view this as motivation for them to make their lives count, to get rich, famous, invent something, do humanitarian work, win the Nobel prize and who knows what else.

On the other hand maybe it should help us have a little more compassion for those worse off than us.

To illustrate this, consider the problem of so called refugees flooding into Malta and the rest of Europe. Many of these are not genuine. Many may be Muslim terrorists. (In fact I personally do not trust Muslims as far as I can comfortably throw them; especially ones who sweat profusely while counting backwards from ten). I am also aware of the job situation and the fact that many jobs destined to Maltese workers are going to immigrants who, out of desperation, will do the same job for a quarter of the wages.

On the other hand though, put yourself in their position. Faced with one shot at life on this planet; your one and only blip of existence; would you be content to face it living in squalor, abject poverty and /or fear for your life? Or would you run for the land of milk and honey.  Like Dick Whittington; pack up your stuff, grab you cat and head for London where the streets are apparently pathed with gold. 

For those of us living in relative comfort it’s easy to condemn them and say that they should all be sent back home but we need to make sure these feelings don’t escalate into acts of racial hatred or worse, violence. Unfortunately for some it’s too late. Graffiti slogans saying things like ‘Africa’s out’ etc… are already in many places and a friend of mine was recently deliberately knocked from his bicycle by a car and is very lucky to still have his one shot at life intact although his face will always carry the scars. He’s black.

Clearly, Malta is only a small island and is stretched to cope with such large numbers of refugees. The rest of Europe must play their part. Having said that, Malta has proved in the past to have a very large heart and continues to demonstrate this by giving humanitarian aid to those in need. Something else about Malta is the fact that it has the initials GC after its name. A reminder that the entire island was given the George cross for bravery during World War II and also a reminder that, even if our own lives may be mere blips in time, collectively we can make a mark that will last for eternity.  

Triumph despite adversity

Struggling for something to write for my latest post my thoughts drifted to the trigger which prompted me to write the previous two. The first one followed a day of verbal abuse from the walking dead (no, not zombies… old people) while the other bemoaned my bad luck when it comes to money. It occurred to me that I’m at my happiest and best when I have something to complain about and guess what, I’m not on my own.

Some of the greatest artists, writers and musicians have triumphed in their particular field despite or more likely because of facing adversity.  Now, I’m not in any way saying that I am a great artist, writer or musician; that’s for you to do, however it does make a valid point that without adversity, most of us would have very little to say and life would be monumentally dull.

Take the worlds obsession with soap operas for example. People do not watch soaps to see how happy all the characters are, they watch soaps to see who is cheating with who, how one character is going to get away with killing another, who stole the milk from number 57’s doorstep. Occasionally there’ll be the love story line where two of the characters decide to get married but even this rarely has a happy ending. Perhaps the brides previous husband will turn up and she’ll realise that she still loves him and flees the alter. Or the groom will finally admit that he’s a raving puff and run off with the best man.  

Personally, I detest soaps rather prefering to watch comedy/drama. Even so, my favorite all time comedy/drama charactors are miserable, sarcastic gits. Blackadder (series of the same name), Basil Fawlty (Fawlty Towers), Arnold Rimmer (Red Dwarf), Alan B’stard (The new statesman), Dr House (House), Dr Cox (Scrubs), Denny Crane (Boston Legal). Even where the characters are nice, we still take pleasure in seeing them suffer embarasing even painful situations all for our entertainment.

In short, adversity is good. Misery is good. I’m ready; bring it on. Then after I’ve sufferred I’ll tell you all about it in the best sarcastic complaining tone I can muster.

Now stop complaining and leave me a comment, you miserable b’stards.

The Sh*t stick

Life’s a bitch and then you die.

Why is it that when you dare to plan something good for yourself, something positive, you dare to lift your head up with the hope that life isn’t so crap after all, that’s the precise moment when you get hit with the sh*t stick?

 A case in point. I’ve recently managed to save a little money (little being the operative word) which on Maltese wages is nothing short of a miracle. In addition to this, I’ve come into a little extra money from an unexpected source. Yippee, thinks I. Life is good. What can I do with this little pot of gold? Perhaps a short well deserved holiday? A trip to Valencia or Barcelona? How about revisiting Venice or perhaps a mini break in Rome? Decisions, decisions… Then it happens.

My lovely wife for the second time in six months has just informed me of her decision to ram our car into the back of the vehicle in front of her. Our insurance is third party which covers the cost of repairing the other guys car however I’ve now got to rebuild the front of ours. Guess where the money’s coming from? Then of course my insurance will go up meaning I’ll never be able to save again. 

If this were an isolated incident I could be accused of making too much out of it however, to quote Edmund Blackadder II, ‘my entire life’s path is strewn with cow pats from the Devils own satanic herd’. 

On the positive side, my wife is completely unhurt and able to drive the car home. The other positive is that I will one day be dead and permanently beyond reach of the sh*t stick.

Getting old

What is it about old people? I spend all day trying to help lovely little old people with their money worries only rather than receiving any thanks, all I seem to get is abuse.

Old people complain about the youth of today not being polite, not showing enough respect, pushing them over and robbing their handbags etc… well boo hoo. Maybe they should set a better example but no… every day I find through personal experience that grumpy old git syndrome is on the increase.

Surely old people should be happy. After all they’re retired, they have nothing to do but sleep late in the morning, play golf, join the bridge club, drink themselves into a stupor and have geriatric sex with the benefit of immediately forgetting how bad it was the minute they finish.

I think the worse and most frightening thing about old people is the fact that I’m rapidly becoming one myself. I’m only just about to leave my 30’s behind and already I find myself complaining more. I groan now every time I get out of a chair. Hell, I groan even getting into a chair. Still, with old age there are many things to look forward to. For starters I fully intend to annoy people by pretending I’m deaf, play ‘pull my finger’ with my grandchildren (if I ever have any) and letch over pretty girls more than half my age (I have a head start with this one already).

Don’t get me wrong, I am not ageist. I have respect for a great number of old people. Mr Jack Daniels being one of them. In fact being as it’s Friday night, I think I just might go and get better acquainted with good old uncle Jack.

Have a good weekend young and old alike.

  

Getting old « Illusivefreddy’s Weblog

Hello world!

This is my first blog… hurrah!

Why start blogging now? Well where to begin… shamless self promotion, a vent for frustration, social comment, something else to do with my computer other than play games and watch porn, (joking about the porn; I’d never do such a thing…) and maybe even find some kindred spirits.

In addition to this, one of my assistants writes a blog (Ladelirante, which is very good by the way) and she suggested I start one too. I have also recently become a fan of a blog by a nice but crazy girl named Claire.

Please look out for future outpourings, photo’s and bits of art (the latter two items also being available for sale… see, shamless self promotion -you have been warned).