In the summer of 1999 we had a lovely ten-day holiday in Malta. The weather was so hot as to be almost unbearable, so much so, that as we went to step out of the aircraft at Malta Airport, the flight attendant warned us that it would be like stepping into an oven! She was absolutely right!
Included in our holiday was the use of a small car, a Kia. We had the option of ‘upgrading’ to a small, open, Suzuki 4×4 style vehicle, but as this offered no protection from the searing heat, we decided against it. During the course of our holiday we decided to catch the car ferry to the neighbouring island of Gozo, not very far distant. As we boarded the ferry, the sky darkened and, during the crossing, the heavens opened in an almost tropical storm, of frightening ferocity. The vessel provided shelter from the downpour, but the occupants of one of the Suzukis mentioned above, which was on our right-hand side, knew that in a few minutes, they would have to leave their water-borne haven and brave the elements. I must say, they looked suitably regretful of their decision to go al fresco.
We disembarked on Gozo, driving up a steep hill from the harbour and meeting a torrent of caramel-coloured water cascading down both gutters of the narrow road. What amused us though, was the elderly lady in Mediterranean garb, who stood on the lowest of three steps down from her door, vainly attempting to divert this gushing flow with the aid of one small domestic broom. We still don’t understand why she felt the need to be outside, in the pouring rain, when her front door was at least three feet higher than the water would ever reach. This incident put us all in mind of John’s business partner, Fernie, who is Spanish. He gets very uptight about the habit of Spanish women, who sweep the street outside their homes. “Why do they do that?” he rages, “It’s nothing to do with them. It’s the council’s job to sweep the street. They should go indoors and leave it alone!”