Someone asked me on Instagram the other day if Malta was entirely built up and Baroque. The island certainly is very densely populated; one traditional restriction imposed in the past was that individual houses should not exist built with gardens. However, this lovely village through which we walked today had found another way to suggest a garden - flowerpots, oil drums, an old sink and more piled round the base of a great tree in the street between the houses, overflowing with trailing plants and ornamental grasses.
We’d climbed up to the British defensive Victoria Lines, where the army barracks were, and down the other side,. We ate sandwiches beside a small chapel above defences and catacombs, and scrambled finally to the coast at Golden Bay.
Now we’re trying to pack. The clothes have all grown; it’ll be a tight squeeze. And I believe we’re returning to gales. Deep joy ...