I could probably competently answer the original form of the question of which the title above is a parody; the structural engineer's task is more often than not aimed at designing buildings to carry weight and making their own weight as minimal as possible, but I am not turning this into an academic exercise of sorts. It is a mere reflection on my new role at F+P just before I start my 7th week there (since, you know, 7 is the perfect number).
Sometimes it still feel surreal that I actually work within the studio of one of the architectural superstars of the 20th and even now the 21st century (albeit that Lord Foster himself is apparently very rarely in London let alone in the office). In my undergrad days, I would flip through books, magazines and the net looking at Foster buildings for inspiration and even now that those days are long gone, the inspiration is surely a perpetual one. After the last troubling years in academia, I am finally back to working in the real world, designing real buildings and all with the added advantage of being in one of the most exciting workplaces for any architect and/or engineer. Starting a new day is something I look forward to (minus the waking up bit, of course) and even walking around the offices past all the models, pin-ups and drawings and sketches stuck to the magnetic walls and sometimes taped to the glazed external walls is inspiring. A quasi communist atmosphere dominates the office - senior partner, intern and all are treated equally, their opinion valued and respected and everyone is on a first name basis where the only formality lies in the quality of the work produced. That, in itself, is impressive, where even mere 'work in progress' type material for internal meetings is of supreme presentation calibre and no expense really is spared.
Speaking of expense, the payment I referred to in the title is beyond the financial one. I am not much of a money fan but the real value I am getting from my job probably has no price tag: the experience and privilege gained from working in such a dynamic studio. In my undergrad days, I would look at the Commerzbank or the Sainsbury Centre or the then newly built Gherkin in magazines and yearn to visit them. In my postgrad days, I would walk around the City and see the buildings for real and recall peeping inside the Riverside studios, where all the magic happens. Nowadays, I am a sorcerer's apprentice myself and I am part of the 1000-odd strong team of wizards who create the wonders which dominate the London skylines and beyond.
Sunday, 17 November 2013
Wednesday, 25 September 2013
Reflections of my life
So sang The Marmalade some 40 years ago when I was mere, erm, dust (in the religious interpretation of the word). Of course, I am fond of all the rock music from the 70s but I did not choose this title as a tribute to the golden age of the genre - I borrowed it simply because this is what I will do here, as I near my 30th birthday.
Probably 1 of these landmark years which truly marks the transition into adulthood. Not that 20 does not fall in the adult realm but I would say that being legally recognised as an adult - i.e., with the right to vote, drink and drive (what joys) - does not imply the degree of maturity society expects from adults. Especially in the context of being an undergraduate student, even in a relatively conservative university environment like Malta, where condom machines are not permitted and where there is virtually no need for students to 'leave home' and experience independent student living away from their childhood cocoon.
Probably life's biggest lessons which I have learnt so far were triggered by the fact that I have lived the greatest part of the last 6 years - my God, thinking about it is scary - in London, where for the first time I experienced the above: away from the comfort of home, having to worry about shopping and feeding and cleaning and other household aches, away from the luxury of a car at my doorstep and having to travel in a city which is several times bigger than my entire native country and striving to harmoniously live with people from 101 diverse backgrounds, cultures and ways of living which are acceptable in their own view but not necessarily in mine. Where else would have this been possible? Fair enough, any other major metropolis, say NYC, but Malta? Not in a million years. Unless the Mediterranean dries up and the Maltese landmass increases by some 1000% and suddenly not only North Africans but people of all nations 'move in'.
From what started off as a 12 month stay ended up being extended to a 3 year one and, in the meantime, it was no longer me but two of us here, hence the additional 2 years appended to the original 3. Ironically, these 2 years might actually prove to be the most exciting of the lot, given that I am finally free from any formal schooling (about time, too) and with a new promising job in the pipeline. But that is another story...the story here is a hi-story one and an egocentric one at that, where the subject is, quite simply, me.
What happened in these past 30 years? What made me become me? Perhaps this would need someone more qualified than me when it comes to psychology or anthropology but I will stick to what I think were the major milestones in my life, so far. And it's quite a big chunk of that: optimistically, around 33.33%. More realistically, almost 40%. Unless, of course, the reaper catches an earlier train and calls beforehand...but let's not go there. Here they are - reflections of my life:
1983
January, or thereabouts, I began this journey! Not much I can say, until Saturday October 22nd, when I saw light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, at St. Luke's Hospital, Pieta'.
1984
Halfway through summer of Orwell's infamous year I made my first steps. Quite a milestone I would say, given that walking is probably the activity which I have done every single day in the past 30 years. And a few months later, in the traditional Maltese quccija, I picked up the hammer. Magistrate? Carpenter? With the benefit of hindsight, one could attribute the tool to construction in general. Hence, the architect/structural engineer?
1985
Not much can I remember from here at this point, except from surprisingly vivid memories of my first Christmas and the effort which my parents, uncles and aunts made at re-interpreting the concept of Santa Claus delivering my presents via some other way other than the (non-existent) chimney, which I clearly pointed out.
1986
I would say that my most clear recollection from this year is listening to Madonna's "La isla bonita" and eventually "Who's that girl" which I would "sing" to my new-born sister in 1987. There was no MTV, no YouTube, no Spotify and no iPods: only the radio which was the sole source of entertainment to my then-teenage aunt. But perhaps this first exposure to music led to my later interest in this art? I know what the reader is saying, "Seriously? Madonna?" But every cloud has its silver lining.
It would also be the year when I first went to kindergarten and presumably reinforced my knowledge of the alphabet and the numbers. Elementary, true, but, at the end of the day, every single thing I have ever studied, read and/or written is a mere combination of these 10 digits and these 26 letters. Period. So quite an important academic year that was!
1987
The year my sister was born, which taught me a great lesson: that the world does not revolve around me (I learnt this before I heard of Galileo and his 'outrageous' theory that the earth is not the centre of the universe) but I need to share resources and respect the needs of others. Possibly one of life's greatest lessons which sadly many do not adhere to in the real world, from a colleague sharing a bathroom at the office to multi-billionaires destroying acres of rainforest every day.
1988
This was a year of many firsts: first time out of Malta, first time on a plane, first time I had a McDonald's milkshake. It was a relatively long trip in Germany, which brought also a number of disappointments: I was hoping to get a piece of cloud (but found that plane windows cannot be opened) and when visiting the Efteling fun park discovered that cartoon characters were not limited to hand-drawn entities but could also take the form of people dressed up in costumes. On a more serious note, I finally realised that the world is way bigger than Malta, to the extent that while on a train, my first experience of paresthesia took place. Nothing serious, of course, but at the time I was terrified that I was nearing death, with the cause being the ingrowing 'cactus plant' from all my nail-biting, a "disease" which had been used (unsatisfactorily) by my parents, uncles and aunts to make me quit the vice (I eventually did but only in 2000 or so).
1989
My first year at De La Salle College or DLS, which provided all my primary and secondary education for an entire decade. I would say that a few years after this point I started the intensive love-affair with Maltese history and architecture in particular, thanks to history lessons, which eventually led to my line of study.
In late 1989, I also started my music and piano tuition, which again led to an enduring passion which I maintain to this day.
1990
The year of my 2nd trip abroad (Italy, this time) at a time when the entire country was still feverish with Italia Novanta (or the 1990 World Cup), which brings to mind the many First Communion parties I was invited to during that summer, which often included TV sets with live matches. And mentioning First Communions, of course I also had my own on 10th June, which was the first (and probably last) time I had a bespoke suit made for me!
1991
One particular event I recall from this year: my first ever visit to a construction site (the Malta International Airport, where my father worked as a materials analyst at the time). I was completely overwhelmed by the vast size of the project, even back then. My clear memory is of a wide expanse of a sea-like, blue-coloured plastic (which I now know is the damp proof membrane laid before the ground slab was cast) in what would later be the arrivals and departures lounges. Probably it was the decisive moment when the die was cast and my fate as a structural engineer was sealed.
1992
I was only 8 at the time but I know it was the year when local general elections took place and it was probably the first time billboards were used (instead of the posters glued on buildings which I faintly remember from 1987). I remember a PN slogan at the time including the word solidarjeta' or solidarity, which I had no idea at the time what it meant, but I then remember an incident during lunch time when 2 students were involved in a 'fight' and an elder student controlled the situation yelling, "Fejn hi s-solidarjeta'?" or "Where is the solidarity?" whilst other on-lookers made references to the said slogan. It was perhaps the first time I realised that politics were serious (albeit 'grown-up') business; luckily I was never involved in the matters, until 1998...
1993
My first decade of life: I started my final year in primary school this year and it was very clear in my mind back then that I wanted to be "an architect, like Glormu Cassar", or the prolific 16th century Maltese architect responsible for building most of Valletta's public edifices. It was a combination of many incidents - the airport visit, the exposure to and love of art in general, the history classes referred to earlier, my childhood experiences in the Kalkara valley and the vernacular architecture there - but it was a decision which influenced many later decisions, which (of course) I do not regret.
1994
As a consequence of the event in 1993, I started secondary school in 1994, which saw a transition from the 'junior school' to the 'senior school' and (less gloriously) no longer wearing shorts as part of the school uniform. It was a radical shift in the schooling process, with my new subjects, including foreign languages, of which I never found any use at the time except for following Italian TV, but which became extremely handy many years down the line in my travels around Europe...
1995
One event comes to mind: the bicycle accident of 1st May, which left its mark on me (thankfully not physical) till this day. I cannot try to ride a bike without feeling all my muscles stiffen and completely mishandling the vehicle. I do not see any ways how this can be modified...
1996
I recall that I was in Form 3 (i.e. late 1996 or early 1997) that I had my first experience of the Internet at home. Needless to say, it was via a dial-up connection using a 56k modem on a Pentium I 133MHz PC running Windows '95. It is almost surreal to compare this seemingly archaic technology with the state-of-the-art digital advances. I am not comparing the Airbus A380 with the Wright brothers - a century apart - but this is a mere 20 years ago. I wonder what there can be beyond wireless and cloud technology...
1997
It was around this time that I realised that the end of secondary school is marked by sitting for 'O' Level exams. It was a word I had vaguely heard during conversations about my elder cousins, which seemed not applicable to me at the time but which suddenly became an imminent reality I had to face too!
1998
Recalling the reference to Maltese politics under '1992' above, it was during this summer that I went to the first political mass meeting(s) which uniquely characterise electoral campaigns in Malta. It was also when I decided that I will never attend such events again: I hate crowds and people (thinking about it, maybe I am claustrophobic?) and cannot fathom why one should go to such an event, particularly if during the hot and humid Maltese summer, when one can follow everything on TV from the comfort of home. And why should I indicate which party's meeting am I going to when voting is all done in secret? I never went to such events again (except on the E.U. accession celebrations in 2004...and a number of rock concerts) and never intend to do so in the future.
1999
And this was the year when I finished my 10 year stay at DLS, when I successfully sat for the famous 'O' Levels and when I started my 2 year (Sixth Form) stint at St. Aloysius College or SAC. It was an eventful year, particularly summer, when I had my first experience of voluntary work, which taught me that there are some aspects of life which cannot be bought by money and are quite priceless. Of course, us Christians believe that payment will be done in the afterlife, but let's keep things simple here...
The choice to go to SAC rather than stay at DLS was purely for the sake of change (besides the better reputation which SAC had, at least in my mind). I have absolutely no regrets and they were 2 of the best years of my life. The extra curricular activities I was engaged in - teen group, music group, Soiree - ensured that I never had a dull moment, amidst all the pure maths which became deeply engrained in me, alongside my ever-growing love for rock music and some friendships which developed at SAC which I hold dear till this day.
2000
The infamous millennium. The millennium bug. The Y2K. The end of the world. What I recall most from 2000 are the summer months, when I got my first (paid) job as a waiter in a local restaurant. Besides all the protocol of silver services and many 'tricks of the trade', this working experience taught me the value of money and that the only ransom for money is hard work, whether it is physical or intellectual.
2001
Can anyone not remember where s/he was on 11/09/01? I was having a nap and awoke to see the burning WTC North Tower and, sadly, just in time to see the 2nd plane hit the South counterpart. The significance for me was the fact that it happened a few weeks away from my first day at university, where I finally enrolled on the architecture/civil engineering course. The latter initially proved to be a sort of cultural shock, particularly drawing streetscapes and the whole lot after 2 years of pure maths and physics...
2002
Right after the new year, precisely on 03/01/02, I sadly experienced the first family death: that evening and rather suddenly the sole nannu I knew passed away. Even 11 years on it is surreal to think that he passed to a better life exactly on the same day my other nannu had died 20 years earlier...
On a much happier note, 27/06/02 was the day (or night) when I started dating one of my colleagues from uni whom I had already known from SAC. The years rolled on and, as they say, the rest is history.
On a lighter note, it was during this summer that I had my first car: the VW Polo Fox hatchback (FAA-821)!
2003
The second decade of my life. Almost half way through my undergraduate degree, walking towards my professional goal in life.
2004
My very own annus horribilis.
My beloved nanna passed away on 12/02/04 quite literally in my hands, only 1 day after a rather terrible design review (which eventually became the only time I ever had an exam referral). Just over 5 months later on 15/07/04, my uncle lost his decade-long, brave battle against cancer.
Two losses which left a deep impact on me, each in their own way. On one hand, the fragility of life and how we live at the mercy of, well, fate. On the other, how much family can never be underestimated, taken for granted or even unappreciated; luckily, it was not the case with nanna. From that point onwards I knew I had to invest all the effort necessary to reach my goals and dedicate the achievement in their memory.
2005
It was during this year that I made the choice to choose to devote my final 2 years at uni focusing more on civil/structural engineering rather than architecture; a choice which seemed so obvious back then but which would eventually be responsible for further choices down the line, always from the educational and/or career point of view. In retrospect, I do not think I would have chosen otherwise!
It was also during this summer that I worked as an architect/structural engineer for the first time during a summer placement at DeMicoli's in Portomaso. What an experience that was - I probably learnt as much as I did in 4 years of lectures!
2006
And finally I got my B.E.&A.(Hons.) degree. It was the end of an era but certainly leading to exciting times in the industry - I returned to DeMicoli's and was lucky enough to work on some of the practice's larger projects, including a 6 week stint in Libya in May 2007. The learning curve was steep, not because of the difficulties but because in a short time I believe I reached respectable heights and I feel I will be always indebted to the office when it comes to my professional development. First love never dies, as they say.
2007
Only until I flew to London on 22/09/07: scared and excited at the same time. The learning at Imperial College was intensive (I distinctly recall my reaction after the first finite element analysis lecture, which I will not reproduce here for the sake of decency), but the learning on a personal level was probably several orders of magnitude bigger. For the first time I was away from home for a reasonable length of time and this brought about new responsibilities. It also made me aware of what it really takes to run a household and that nothing can truly be taken for granted, including finding clean laundry in the drawer!
What I also learnt not to take for granted was something even more fundamental: life itself. The passing away of my cousin (who at merely 22 or 2 years younger than me) on 10/04/07 made me realise that the sad events of 2004 could really happen at any time and being alive is a huge privilege; life must be enjoyed to its fullness. Amidst all the hard work at Imperial, throughout that scholastic year I did my best to live up to this whilst in London.
2008
And after 12 intensive months, it was finally over. I got my M.Sc. and the conspicuous D.I.C., which Imperial awards to all its graduands, irrespective of gender. My time in London was not over: I moved to Surrey and started working with an engineering consultation practice, which, in a sort of deja vu manner, proved to be a very fruitful experience as much as the postgraduate degree was.
After living in London for a year with £1 being a steady €1.50 (or rather Lm0.60 as I knew it), 2008 was also the year when the pound decided to collapse, with the 2 currencies almost being 1:1 right after I got my first pay cheque, making my earnings not any much better than what I would get at home...
2009
Which is what I did in April 2009: I packed my 100kg of belongings and got a 1 way ticket to Malta. It was a serendipitous move: only a few months later did my girlfriend and I change our status to fiancée and fiancé, which brought about an exciting set of new activities to address. And in the meantime, that phone call from Imperial with an offer for a funded Ph.D. due to start in October! With all the dates set and virtually everything taken care of, I got yet another 1 way ticket to Heathrow and began another adventure, only that this time I knew I was not going to be alone for long!
2010
Everything changed after 20/03/10. The happiest day I can think of - finally Mr. and Mrs. Micallef. I think marriage is one of life's defining moments, probably the biggest commitment (even if, ironically, 2010 was the year Malta introduced divorce). Till one becomes a parent of course.
Being in London for a 2 year long 'honeymoon' started as a joke but amidst all the ups and downs which would follow throughout the course of my Ph.D. and with the 2 years extended by a further 2 (or so), it was definitely an exciting period of European travel (to date: Budapest, Barcelona, Paris, Valencia, Marrakesh and Amsterdam) and the occasional U.K. trip (too many to remember!), it was (and still is) a truly remarkable experience to live the first few years of married life in a city like London...and beyond.
2011
This was the year of uprising in the Arab states but was relatively calm in the Micallef household, except that there was a major decision taken towards the end of summer when my wife was also offered to do a Ph.D., which she accepted and thus extended our temporary stay in London by at least another 2 years...
2012
Definitely one of the hardest years I can think of. Never was I so close to quitting the bloody Ph.D. than the summer of this year. Frustration and difficulty in finding motivation were the main culprits but thanks to the (very little) determination I had left and the (very persistent) support I received, I managed to somehow complete my work and started writing up the blessed thesis in late autumn...
It also marked another sad family-related episode: my last-surviving grandparent passed away on 15/03/12 and with nanna I bid farewell to an entire generation of my family. Some life lessons are never taught at school, even if at the most advanced of the tertiary sort, and they are only learnt from experience. It still remains for me one of life's dilemmas although I paradoxically believe it is God's best way of dealing with us humans, that whatever and whoever you are, the same fate awaits us all...
2013
And here we are today: my third decade of life. This turned out to be a mini autobiography more than anything else, but I am one who finds it hard to kiss, that is, to keep it simple (no 'stupid' here for I respect you, dear reader, for having stuck till the end). That's part of me, along the other aspects which make who I am: a son, a brother, a husband, an architect/structural engineer and a music aficionado, currently stuck in London and now truly enjoying every bit of it more than ever before.
After the long ordeal at Imperial (whose termination I found most welcome), I gave academia another chance by working as a research fellow at the University of Surrey. To be fair, it was less stressful working scenario, albeit still productive, but...that will be in another post.
What's planned for this decade? They say life begins at 40, so I have plenty of time left to think about what I will do in life. Till then, the plan is to get yet another 1 way ticket to Malta and simultaneously build a new home there and a professional career, cherishing all the memories accumulated in London. I seriously cannot imagine what I will be writing about in the period 2014-2023 but definitely will not be in a blog called "The streets of London"!
Probably 1 of these landmark years which truly marks the transition into adulthood. Not that 20 does not fall in the adult realm but I would say that being legally recognised as an adult - i.e., with the right to vote, drink and drive (what joys) - does not imply the degree of maturity society expects from adults. Especially in the context of being an undergraduate student, even in a relatively conservative university environment like Malta, where condom machines are not permitted and where there is virtually no need for students to 'leave home' and experience independent student living away from their childhood cocoon.
Probably life's biggest lessons which I have learnt so far were triggered by the fact that I have lived the greatest part of the last 6 years - my God, thinking about it is scary - in London, where for the first time I experienced the above: away from the comfort of home, having to worry about shopping and feeding and cleaning and other household aches, away from the luxury of a car at my doorstep and having to travel in a city which is several times bigger than my entire native country and striving to harmoniously live with people from 101 diverse backgrounds, cultures and ways of living which are acceptable in their own view but not necessarily in mine. Where else would have this been possible? Fair enough, any other major metropolis, say NYC, but Malta? Not in a million years. Unless the Mediterranean dries up and the Maltese landmass increases by some 1000% and suddenly not only North Africans but people of all nations 'move in'.
From what started off as a 12 month stay ended up being extended to a 3 year one and, in the meantime, it was no longer me but two of us here, hence the additional 2 years appended to the original 3. Ironically, these 2 years might actually prove to be the most exciting of the lot, given that I am finally free from any formal schooling (about time, too) and with a new promising job in the pipeline. But that is another story...the story here is a hi-story one and an egocentric one at that, where the subject is, quite simply, me.
What happened in these past 30 years? What made me become me? Perhaps this would need someone more qualified than me when it comes to psychology or anthropology but I will stick to what I think were the major milestones in my life, so far. And it's quite a big chunk of that: optimistically, around 33.33%. More realistically, almost 40%. Unless, of course, the reaper catches an earlier train and calls beforehand...but let's not go there. Here they are - reflections of my life:
1983
January, or thereabouts, I began this journey! Not much I can say, until Saturday October 22nd, when I saw light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, at St. Luke's Hospital, Pieta'.
1984
Halfway through summer of Orwell's infamous year I made my first steps. Quite a milestone I would say, given that walking is probably the activity which I have done every single day in the past 30 years. And a few months later, in the traditional Maltese quccija, I picked up the hammer. Magistrate? Carpenter? With the benefit of hindsight, one could attribute the tool to construction in general. Hence, the architect/structural engineer?
1985
Not much can I remember from here at this point, except from surprisingly vivid memories of my first Christmas and the effort which my parents, uncles and aunts made at re-interpreting the concept of Santa Claus delivering my presents via some other way other than the (non-existent) chimney, which I clearly pointed out.
1986
I would say that my most clear recollection from this year is listening to Madonna's "La isla bonita" and eventually "Who's that girl" which I would "sing" to my new-born sister in 1987. There was no MTV, no YouTube, no Spotify and no iPods: only the radio which was the sole source of entertainment to my then-teenage aunt. But perhaps this first exposure to music led to my later interest in this art? I know what the reader is saying, "Seriously? Madonna?" But every cloud has its silver lining.
It would also be the year when I first went to kindergarten and presumably reinforced my knowledge of the alphabet and the numbers. Elementary, true, but, at the end of the day, every single thing I have ever studied, read and/or written is a mere combination of these 10 digits and these 26 letters. Period. So quite an important academic year that was!
1987
The year my sister was born, which taught me a great lesson: that the world does not revolve around me (I learnt this before I heard of Galileo and his 'outrageous' theory that the earth is not the centre of the universe) but I need to share resources and respect the needs of others. Possibly one of life's greatest lessons which sadly many do not adhere to in the real world, from a colleague sharing a bathroom at the office to multi-billionaires destroying acres of rainforest every day.
1988
This was a year of many firsts: first time out of Malta, first time on a plane, first time I had a McDonald's milkshake. It was a relatively long trip in Germany, which brought also a number of disappointments: I was hoping to get a piece of cloud (but found that plane windows cannot be opened) and when visiting the Efteling fun park discovered that cartoon characters were not limited to hand-drawn entities but could also take the form of people dressed up in costumes. On a more serious note, I finally realised that the world is way bigger than Malta, to the extent that while on a train, my first experience of paresthesia took place. Nothing serious, of course, but at the time I was terrified that I was nearing death, with the cause being the ingrowing 'cactus plant' from all my nail-biting, a "disease" which had been used (unsatisfactorily) by my parents, uncles and aunts to make me quit the vice (I eventually did but only in 2000 or so).
1989
My first year at De La Salle College or DLS, which provided all my primary and secondary education for an entire decade. I would say that a few years after this point I started the intensive love-affair with Maltese history and architecture in particular, thanks to history lessons, which eventually led to my line of study.
In late 1989, I also started my music and piano tuition, which again led to an enduring passion which I maintain to this day.
1990
The year of my 2nd trip abroad (Italy, this time) at a time when the entire country was still feverish with Italia Novanta (or the 1990 World Cup), which brings to mind the many First Communion parties I was invited to during that summer, which often included TV sets with live matches. And mentioning First Communions, of course I also had my own on 10th June, which was the first (and probably last) time I had a bespoke suit made for me!
1991
One particular event I recall from this year: my first ever visit to a construction site (the Malta International Airport, where my father worked as a materials analyst at the time). I was completely overwhelmed by the vast size of the project, even back then. My clear memory is of a wide expanse of a sea-like, blue-coloured plastic (which I now know is the damp proof membrane laid before the ground slab was cast) in what would later be the arrivals and departures lounges. Probably it was the decisive moment when the die was cast and my fate as a structural engineer was sealed.
1992
I was only 8 at the time but I know it was the year when local general elections took place and it was probably the first time billboards were used (instead of the posters glued on buildings which I faintly remember from 1987). I remember a PN slogan at the time including the word solidarjeta' or solidarity, which I had no idea at the time what it meant, but I then remember an incident during lunch time when 2 students were involved in a 'fight' and an elder student controlled the situation yelling, "Fejn hi s-solidarjeta'?" or "Where is the solidarity?" whilst other on-lookers made references to the said slogan. It was perhaps the first time I realised that politics were serious (albeit 'grown-up') business; luckily I was never involved in the matters, until 1998...
1993
My first decade of life: I started my final year in primary school this year and it was very clear in my mind back then that I wanted to be "an architect, like Glormu Cassar", or the prolific 16th century Maltese architect responsible for building most of Valletta's public edifices. It was a combination of many incidents - the airport visit, the exposure to and love of art in general, the history classes referred to earlier, my childhood experiences in the Kalkara valley and the vernacular architecture there - but it was a decision which influenced many later decisions, which (of course) I do not regret.
1994
As a consequence of the event in 1993, I started secondary school in 1994, which saw a transition from the 'junior school' to the 'senior school' and (less gloriously) no longer wearing shorts as part of the school uniform. It was a radical shift in the schooling process, with my new subjects, including foreign languages, of which I never found any use at the time except for following Italian TV, but which became extremely handy many years down the line in my travels around Europe...
1995
One event comes to mind: the bicycle accident of 1st May, which left its mark on me (thankfully not physical) till this day. I cannot try to ride a bike without feeling all my muscles stiffen and completely mishandling the vehicle. I do not see any ways how this can be modified...
1996
I recall that I was in Form 3 (i.e. late 1996 or early 1997) that I had my first experience of the Internet at home. Needless to say, it was via a dial-up connection using a 56k modem on a Pentium I 133MHz PC running Windows '95. It is almost surreal to compare this seemingly archaic technology with the state-of-the-art digital advances. I am not comparing the Airbus A380 with the Wright brothers - a century apart - but this is a mere 20 years ago. I wonder what there can be beyond wireless and cloud technology...
1997
It was around this time that I realised that the end of secondary school is marked by sitting for 'O' Level exams. It was a word I had vaguely heard during conversations about my elder cousins, which seemed not applicable to me at the time but which suddenly became an imminent reality I had to face too!
1998
Recalling the reference to Maltese politics under '1992' above, it was during this summer that I went to the first political mass meeting(s) which uniquely characterise electoral campaigns in Malta. It was also when I decided that I will never attend such events again: I hate crowds and people (thinking about it, maybe I am claustrophobic?) and cannot fathom why one should go to such an event, particularly if during the hot and humid Maltese summer, when one can follow everything on TV from the comfort of home. And why should I indicate which party's meeting am I going to when voting is all done in secret? I never went to such events again (except on the E.U. accession celebrations in 2004...and a number of rock concerts) and never intend to do so in the future.
1999
And this was the year when I finished my 10 year stay at DLS, when I successfully sat for the famous 'O' Levels and when I started my 2 year (Sixth Form) stint at St. Aloysius College or SAC. It was an eventful year, particularly summer, when I had my first experience of voluntary work, which taught me that there are some aspects of life which cannot be bought by money and are quite priceless. Of course, us Christians believe that payment will be done in the afterlife, but let's keep things simple here...
The choice to go to SAC rather than stay at DLS was purely for the sake of change (besides the better reputation which SAC had, at least in my mind). I have absolutely no regrets and they were 2 of the best years of my life. The extra curricular activities I was engaged in - teen group, music group, Soiree - ensured that I never had a dull moment, amidst all the pure maths which became deeply engrained in me, alongside my ever-growing love for rock music and some friendships which developed at SAC which I hold dear till this day.
2000
The infamous millennium. The millennium bug. The Y2K. The end of the world. What I recall most from 2000 are the summer months, when I got my first (paid) job as a waiter in a local restaurant. Besides all the protocol of silver services and many 'tricks of the trade', this working experience taught me the value of money and that the only ransom for money is hard work, whether it is physical or intellectual.
2001
Can anyone not remember where s/he was on 11/09/01? I was having a nap and awoke to see the burning WTC North Tower and, sadly, just in time to see the 2nd plane hit the South counterpart. The significance for me was the fact that it happened a few weeks away from my first day at university, where I finally enrolled on the architecture/civil engineering course. The latter initially proved to be a sort of cultural shock, particularly drawing streetscapes and the whole lot after 2 years of pure maths and physics...
2002
Right after the new year, precisely on 03/01/02, I sadly experienced the first family death: that evening and rather suddenly the sole nannu I knew passed away. Even 11 years on it is surreal to think that he passed to a better life exactly on the same day my other nannu had died 20 years earlier...
On a much happier note, 27/06/02 was the day (or night) when I started dating one of my colleagues from uni whom I had already known from SAC. The years rolled on and, as they say, the rest is history.
On a lighter note, it was during this summer that I had my first car: the VW Polo Fox hatchback (FAA-821)!
2003
The second decade of my life. Almost half way through my undergraduate degree, walking towards my professional goal in life.
2004
My very own annus horribilis.
My beloved nanna passed away on 12/02/04 quite literally in my hands, only 1 day after a rather terrible design review (which eventually became the only time I ever had an exam referral). Just over 5 months later on 15/07/04, my uncle lost his decade-long, brave battle against cancer.
Two losses which left a deep impact on me, each in their own way. On one hand, the fragility of life and how we live at the mercy of, well, fate. On the other, how much family can never be underestimated, taken for granted or even unappreciated; luckily, it was not the case with nanna. From that point onwards I knew I had to invest all the effort necessary to reach my goals and dedicate the achievement in their memory.
2005
It was during this year that I made the choice to choose to devote my final 2 years at uni focusing more on civil/structural engineering rather than architecture; a choice which seemed so obvious back then but which would eventually be responsible for further choices down the line, always from the educational and/or career point of view. In retrospect, I do not think I would have chosen otherwise!
It was also during this summer that I worked as an architect/structural engineer for the first time during a summer placement at DeMicoli's in Portomaso. What an experience that was - I probably learnt as much as I did in 4 years of lectures!
2006
And finally I got my B.E.&A.(Hons.) degree. It was the end of an era but certainly leading to exciting times in the industry - I returned to DeMicoli's and was lucky enough to work on some of the practice's larger projects, including a 6 week stint in Libya in May 2007. The learning curve was steep, not because of the difficulties but because in a short time I believe I reached respectable heights and I feel I will be always indebted to the office when it comes to my professional development. First love never dies, as they say.
2007
Only until I flew to London on 22/09/07: scared and excited at the same time. The learning at Imperial College was intensive (I distinctly recall my reaction after the first finite element analysis lecture, which I will not reproduce here for the sake of decency), but the learning on a personal level was probably several orders of magnitude bigger. For the first time I was away from home for a reasonable length of time and this brought about new responsibilities. It also made me aware of what it really takes to run a household and that nothing can truly be taken for granted, including finding clean laundry in the drawer!
What I also learnt not to take for granted was something even more fundamental: life itself. The passing away of my cousin (who at merely 22 or 2 years younger than me) on 10/04/07 made me realise that the sad events of 2004 could really happen at any time and being alive is a huge privilege; life must be enjoyed to its fullness. Amidst all the hard work at Imperial, throughout that scholastic year I did my best to live up to this whilst in London.
2008
And after 12 intensive months, it was finally over. I got my M.Sc. and the conspicuous D.I.C., which Imperial awards to all its graduands, irrespective of gender. My time in London was not over: I moved to Surrey and started working with an engineering consultation practice, which, in a sort of deja vu manner, proved to be a very fruitful experience as much as the postgraduate degree was.
After living in London for a year with £1 being a steady €1.50 (or rather Lm0.60 as I knew it), 2008 was also the year when the pound decided to collapse, with the 2 currencies almost being 1:1 right after I got my first pay cheque, making my earnings not any much better than what I would get at home...
2009
Which is what I did in April 2009: I packed my 100kg of belongings and got a 1 way ticket to Malta. It was a serendipitous move: only a few months later did my girlfriend and I change our status to fiancée and fiancé, which brought about an exciting set of new activities to address. And in the meantime, that phone call from Imperial with an offer for a funded Ph.D. due to start in October! With all the dates set and virtually everything taken care of, I got yet another 1 way ticket to Heathrow and began another adventure, only that this time I knew I was not going to be alone for long!
2010
Everything changed after 20/03/10. The happiest day I can think of - finally Mr. and Mrs. Micallef. I think marriage is one of life's defining moments, probably the biggest commitment (even if, ironically, 2010 was the year Malta introduced divorce). Till one becomes a parent of course.
Being in London for a 2 year long 'honeymoon' started as a joke but amidst all the ups and downs which would follow throughout the course of my Ph.D. and with the 2 years extended by a further 2 (or so), it was definitely an exciting period of European travel (to date: Budapest, Barcelona, Paris, Valencia, Marrakesh and Amsterdam) and the occasional U.K. trip (too many to remember!), it was (and still is) a truly remarkable experience to live the first few years of married life in a city like London...and beyond.
2011
This was the year of uprising in the Arab states but was relatively calm in the Micallef household, except that there was a major decision taken towards the end of summer when my wife was also offered to do a Ph.D., which she accepted and thus extended our temporary stay in London by at least another 2 years...
2012
Definitely one of the hardest years I can think of. Never was I so close to quitting the bloody Ph.D. than the summer of this year. Frustration and difficulty in finding motivation were the main culprits but thanks to the (very little) determination I had left and the (very persistent) support I received, I managed to somehow complete my work and started writing up the blessed thesis in late autumn...
It also marked another sad family-related episode: my last-surviving grandparent passed away on 15/03/12 and with nanna I bid farewell to an entire generation of my family. Some life lessons are never taught at school, even if at the most advanced of the tertiary sort, and they are only learnt from experience. It still remains for me one of life's dilemmas although I paradoxically believe it is God's best way of dealing with us humans, that whatever and whoever you are, the same fate awaits us all...
2013
And here we are today: my third decade of life. This turned out to be a mini autobiography more than anything else, but I am one who finds it hard to kiss, that is, to keep it simple (no 'stupid' here for I respect you, dear reader, for having stuck till the end). That's part of me, along the other aspects which make who I am: a son, a brother, a husband, an architect/structural engineer and a music aficionado, currently stuck in London and now truly enjoying every bit of it more than ever before.
After the long ordeal at Imperial (whose termination I found most welcome), I gave academia another chance by working as a research fellow at the University of Surrey. To be fair, it was less stressful working scenario, albeit still productive, but...that will be in another post.
What's planned for this decade? They say life begins at 40, so I have plenty of time left to think about what I will do in life. Till then, the plan is to get yet another 1 way ticket to Malta and simultaneously build a new home there and a professional career, cherishing all the memories accumulated in London. I seriously cannot imagine what I will be writing about in the period 2014-2023 but definitely will not be in a blog called "The streets of London"!
Wednesday, 28 August 2013
High-(s and)-lights from Amsterdam
It's a well-exhausted cliché that Monday is the hardest working day of the week after the weekend. Or Tuesday if Monday happens to be a bank holiday. Or even Wednesday if you had decided to take a slightly long weekend combining the two. Today happens to be that day. The occasion? Back from a 4 day trip to the Dutch capital - Amsterdam.
It really started off as a 'challenge' to tick off from the 'to do' list a particular item which entailed being in Amsterdam, namely, to get stoned in Amsterdam before hitting 30. Browsing the calendar earlier this year, a serendipitous moment revealed that Marianna's 30th happened to be just after the August bank holiday weekend and hey presto all was booked in no time. A long gestation period, characterised mainly by the Ph.D. viva and submitting the thesis' final version was followed by a scrutinty of two guide books and hence the long-awaited vacation.
The 11am flight was right on time and we landed in Amsterdam in the late morning and was at the hotel - literally behind the Van Gogh Museum - half an hour later. Luggage ridden of, we gathered a supply of Vitamin D in the Museumplein and started exhausting our I am Amsterdam 72 hour card at the Diamond Museum and a brief homage to Renzo Piano's NEMO building. After dinner and an unexpected rain shower, the next call was at the city's infamous Red Light District, which initially I thought was a disappointment having seen only 2 or 3 sets of windows until we found ourselves in the heart of the area where I was overwhelmed by the neon. Although I only saw 1 client entering (technically 2 since this particular lad carried his girlfriend along apparently for some triple fun), the number of withdrawn curtains suggested a thriving business...needless to say, I only did window shopping.
Despite this liberal approach to prostitution and, of course, drugs, I found the Dutch to be an extremely amicable bunch: courteous, helpful and polite. It is impossible for all the Dutch I met to have behaved in this way for sheer want of ass-kissing tourists (they are too chilled for this); it is their second nature to act so and if one stereotype is to ever be true, it should be that the Dutch are all warm people. But they really do need to revise some of the name tags to their buildings. Oude Kerk (or Old Church) bang in the middle of a street lined with women whose entire body coverings cover less area than my hair even now that it is in jeopardy? Or the Nieuwe Kerk (or New Church) abutting a fully-fledged cannabis shop?
Back to the itinerary: Day 2 started off with a visit to the Flower Market and a walk up the southern canal belt up to the city centre - picturesque scenery indeed despite the crappy weather - via the Von Loon and Willet houses and the FOAM and Handbag and Purse (!) Museum. Next stop: an hour cheese tasting session, which proved to be a great, albeit cheesy, experience. A herring sandwich later and via the Begijnhof and the Amsterdam Historical Museum, we ventured through the Red Light District again (empty this time, presumably its workers all asleep?) via the New and Old Churches and a hidden away gem that is the Our Lord in the Attic house-cum-chapel. The day was concluded with a canal cruise till sunset and a decent dinner and finally ticking off the list 'the deed' before the clock ticked 27th August...
Rembrandt's house and studio were the first point of call the next day, which I found fascinating, probably even more than his actual paintings (quite an unfair comment though). Next I was forced to wear a kippah to visit the Jewish synagogue, a first for me and a welcome accessory given that the Dutch sun was almost scourging my balding head! Alas I had to return this prior to visiting the Royal Artis Zoo - definitely much more interesting than London's counterpart. After lunch and across the city, we dropped by at the Canal, Houseboat and Tulip Museums - very local-themed venues - and finally the famous Anne Frank House. It was the first time that we had to queue to enter an attraction but it was well-worth the wait for such an emotional visit (excluding the accumulating heel pains after several hours of walking). And finally a traditional Dutch dinner and Day 3 was done.
The final day: the Van Gogh Museum. Wow - a well-managed place with a just-right dose of museum pieces and explanatory notes. And the obligatory shot with 'The sunflowers' (that is to say, with 1 of the many). Souvenir shopping followed (very simple choice: tulip bulbs!) and then the Stedelijk Museum, in which case the venue definitely outweighed the contents, except for some Mondrian and Picasso perhaps. And the singing escalator.
All good things come to an end and this was the case of our trip to Amsterdam. Impression? Very positive. The people? Wonderful (except when they are on a bike and/or in a hurry, in which case the outcome could be lethal). Amsterdam is living proof that liberalism works and oppression of vice probably has greater dangers, but whether this model can be used in a Mediterranean context (where people tend to be given an inch but then go for a mile) is debatable. Politics and philosophy aside, it was a very relaxing holiday amidst our crazy lives in London and would recommend anyone to visit the city, which has much to offer beyond its famed tulips, its women and its grass.
Sunday, 28 July 2013
What's in a name?
Actually, quite a lot! A couple of months ago, I was doing some window shopping on the high street and popped into 1 of my favourite stores, Clarks. Not that I needed any particular shoes then but I always like to have a look. And surprisingly I always end up looking at and trying on loafers. One particular model caught my eye. I knew I will buy this eventually (when it is on sale, that is). And looking at the label on the sole, I checked the model name for future reference and found a pleasant surprise. It was called "Malta Coast".
I took this to be a sign (cannot really say it was divine since there is probably nothing more profane than buying a material object which does nothing but face the floor and ground some 10 hours a day!) but I decided that I had to buy this, no matter what.
And here I am now: I got my Malta Coast (actually got this and another model which is totally unrelated to the homeland but which I also found highly attractive). And after wearing this for the first time today, I am looking forward to wearing it over the next months. And I know its name will remind me of home with every step of the way.
Moral of the story: there is a lot in a name and one should never underestimate the power of marketing. Well done, Clarks.
I took this to be a sign (cannot really say it was divine since there is probably nothing more profane than buying a material object which does nothing but face the floor and ground some 10 hours a day!) but I decided that I had to buy this, no matter what.
And here I am now: I got my Malta Coast (actually got this and another model which is totally unrelated to the homeland but which I also found highly attractive). And after wearing this for the first time today, I am looking forward to wearing it over the next months. And I know its name will remind me of home with every step of the way.
Moral of the story: there is a lot in a name and one should never underestimate the power of marketing. Well done, Clarks.
Thursday, 30 May 2013
PF follow-up
You might recall the post from last week about my PF gaffe after my momentary lapse of reason, so to speak. Well, as embarrassing as that incident was, this week's return journey to Covent Garden was equally fruitful...
With "Inside out" and "The making of DSOM" in my carrier bag, I landed at the Seven Dials at around 4.45pm, to find a sizeable line outside the tiny Rockarchive Gallery. Damn it, I should have arrived earlier was my initial thought as I found my place at the end of the line. At 5pm sharp, the security people started ushering groups of 2 or 3 inside and my turn arrived less than 20 minutes later. I saw the frail-looking Nick Mason underneath a massive print of the iconic Charlie Watts side profile photo. To think that this character banged the drums with such fistful energy for years and is now nearing his 70s and looking almost very fragile is unreal.
Unlike a similar encounter I had had with Storm Thorgerson in 2010, Nick was typically reserved and quiet but whilst he signed my copy of his own book and I told him that I only had 1 Floyd left to meet, he asked me, "Which one?" and then smiled back at my answer. I dared to ask if he could sign another book and he answered, "Sure, with pleasure!", which he did and then I ended my brief encounter with, "Thanks a lot, it is such a real honour to meet you!" from my side and, "Cheers, bye now" from him - predictable Englishman.
And thus I only need to find a way to meet David Gilmour and my Floyd encounters are done! And now that I am still around in London is probably the best time to do so, although I did go to a Roger Waters concert in Malta. Meeting such giant rock stars is an overwhelming privilege, but listening to their musical legacy is what truly matters and as long as I do not face Beethoven's fate, nothing is going to stop me from that!
With "Inside out" and "The making of DSOM" in my carrier bag, I landed at the Seven Dials at around 4.45pm, to find a sizeable line outside the tiny Rockarchive Gallery. Damn it, I should have arrived earlier was my initial thought as I found my place at the end of the line. At 5pm sharp, the security people started ushering groups of 2 or 3 inside and my turn arrived less than 20 minutes later. I saw the frail-looking Nick Mason underneath a massive print of the iconic Charlie Watts side profile photo. To think that this character banged the drums with such fistful energy for years and is now nearing his 70s and looking almost very fragile is unreal.
Unlike a similar encounter I had had with Storm Thorgerson in 2010, Nick was typically reserved and quiet but whilst he signed my copy of his own book and I told him that I only had 1 Floyd left to meet, he asked me, "Which one?" and then smiled back at my answer. I dared to ask if he could sign another book and he answered, "Sure, with pleasure!", which he did and then I ended my brief encounter with, "Thanks a lot, it is such a real honour to meet you!" from my side and, "Cheers, bye now" from him - predictable Englishman.
And thus I only need to find a way to meet David Gilmour and my Floyd encounters are done! And now that I am still around in London is probably the best time to do so, although I did go to a Roger Waters concert in Malta. Meeting such giant rock stars is an overwhelming privilege, but listening to their musical legacy is what truly matters and as long as I do not face Beethoven's fate, nothing is going to stop me from that!
Friday, 24 May 2013
Spring time...or not?
As I write this, I have just completed my day's work and it is only a few minutes before the bank holiday weekend kicks off - finally. Also, as I write this, it is raining outside. Actually, it has been raining since late morning, non-stop. And it is quite chilly, too.
Nothing new, one would say. And this is partially true. But one must note that this is the end of May. Summer begins in less than a month's time. What is wrong with this country? Especially when one remembers that 2-3 weeks ago, it was sunny, day after day and quite warm actually, with temperatures over 20 being the norm!
Dear UK weather, please decide: if you have deliberately chosen to annoy me for the rest of my stay in this country and lead me into despair, then go ahead and stick to rain and cloud. But do not dare to give me ample sunshine for weeks at an end when all I do is work, work, work and then pour endlessly during a much-anticipated weekend.
Nothing new, one would say. And this is partially true. But one must note that this is the end of May. Summer begins in less than a month's time. What is wrong with this country? Especially when one remembers that 2-3 weeks ago, it was sunny, day after day and quite warm actually, with temperatures over 20 being the norm!
Dear UK weather, please decide: if you have deliberately chosen to annoy me for the rest of my stay in this country and lead me into despair, then go ahead and stick to rain and cloud. But do not dare to give me ample sunshine for weeks at an end when all I do is work, work, work and then pour endlessly during a much-anticipated weekend.
Thursday, 23 May 2013
Lapsus
I tend to be quite organised and punctual when it comes to events, both business and pleasure. I actually find (silent) pride in being on the dot without any reliance whatsoever on iPhones or gadgets or even the old-fashioned diary or planner. Except for today...
It was one of those sneak peaks at Facebook while at work that I saw this post in my news feed about Nick Mason (drummer of Pink Floyd) and a signing session he will be holding in London, just off the Seven Dials in Covent Garden. Nick Mason! That would leave only 25% of the PF - David Gilmour - for me to encounter; Rick Wright I had met in my local Sainsbury's on NYE 2007/8 (incidentally opposite the site of Syd Barrett's former flat on the Cromwell Road) and Roger Waters, although I did not meet him personally, I had gone to his DSoM concert in Malta in July 2006. One could mention meeting Storm Thorgerson back in 2010, but he was 'only' an appendage to the Floyd, albeit an iconic one...
Leaving Floyd trivia and back to our story: Mason was to be in this art gallery to sign photos of him and up to one other PF-related memorabilia from fans on Thursday from 5 to 6pm. At this point, I say only Thursday since I swear I had read 23rd May 2013, but, whatever date it was, I had to come up with a plan to move my weekly (Thursday) meeting by an hour or so to get me enough time to reach central London before 6pm, which proved to be simple.
So today I reached Covent Garden at 4.45pm, happy with my "The making of the DSOM" book ready for a signature. I popped into not one but two Waterstones to get a copy of Mason's own PF story, but did not find any! Having those 15 minutes to spare, I went to Fopp and sought any Floyd CD to get it signed and, again, did not find any! I had to content myself with getting "just" one item signed and headed to the gallery.
Although I did spot some awesome Floyd (and other rock legend) pictures on display, I was surprised to find it completely empty. The friendly patron there came up to me and asked me if I needed any help (she should have realised that I was not too keen on purchasing any of the £2000+ framed prints there) so gingerly I asked at what time Mr. Mason was expected to turn up. And her reply? He will be there on the 30th! Whaaat? One week early?
I could not believe that I had misread the date and all I wished for was to log on to Facebook and confirm (or otherwise) that the post did say 23rd May. In fact, I soon found out that it did say 30th May, which means I will be heading back to the Rockarchive Popup Gallery in a week's time. And hopefully writing another post with a picture of me with Nick or less ambitiously with my signed copy of "The making".
In any case, every cloud has its silver lining: I logged onto Amazon and bought "The inside out: A personal history of PF" by Nick Mason, which I should get before the 30th, and which I am sure Nick will be more fond to sign than anything else.
It was one of those sneak peaks at Facebook while at work that I saw this post in my news feed about Nick Mason (drummer of Pink Floyd) and a signing session he will be holding in London, just off the Seven Dials in Covent Garden. Nick Mason! That would leave only 25% of the PF - David Gilmour - for me to encounter; Rick Wright I had met in my local Sainsbury's on NYE 2007/8 (incidentally opposite the site of Syd Barrett's former flat on the Cromwell Road) and Roger Waters, although I did not meet him personally, I had gone to his DSoM concert in Malta in July 2006. One could mention meeting Storm Thorgerson back in 2010, but he was 'only' an appendage to the Floyd, albeit an iconic one...
Leaving Floyd trivia and back to our story: Mason was to be in this art gallery to sign photos of him and up to one other PF-related memorabilia from fans on Thursday from 5 to 6pm. At this point, I say only Thursday since I swear I had read 23rd May 2013, but, whatever date it was, I had to come up with a plan to move my weekly (Thursday) meeting by an hour or so to get me enough time to reach central London before 6pm, which proved to be simple.
So today I reached Covent Garden at 4.45pm, happy with my "The making of the DSOM" book ready for a signature. I popped into not one but two Waterstones to get a copy of Mason's own PF story, but did not find any! Having those 15 minutes to spare, I went to Fopp and sought any Floyd CD to get it signed and, again, did not find any! I had to content myself with getting "just" one item signed and headed to the gallery.
Although I did spot some awesome Floyd (and other rock legend) pictures on display, I was surprised to find it completely empty. The friendly patron there came up to me and asked me if I needed any help (she should have realised that I was not too keen on purchasing any of the £2000+ framed prints there) so gingerly I asked at what time Mr. Mason was expected to turn up. And her reply? He will be there on the 30th! Whaaat? One week early?
I could not believe that I had misread the date and all I wished for was to log on to Facebook and confirm (or otherwise) that the post did say 23rd May. In fact, I soon found out that it did say 30th May, which means I will be heading back to the Rockarchive Popup Gallery in a week's time. And hopefully writing another post with a picture of me with Nick or less ambitiously with my signed copy of "The making".
In any case, every cloud has its silver lining: I logged onto Amazon and bought "The inside out: A personal history of PF" by Nick Mason, which I should get before the 30th, and which I am sure Nick will be more fond to sign than anything else.
Friday, 19 April 2013
Habemus philosophiae doctor
At exactly this time 24 hours ago, my Ph.D. viva kicked off in #228C of the Skempton Building of Imperial College London. It proved to be quite an ordeal: a 5 hour long grilling session, faced with many questions and queries related to my thesis. By the end of it, I felt physically drained. But the experience proved many things.
Firstly, it is clear that my heart is rock solid, for I faced the stress with no cardiac complications of any sort.
Secondly, truly, where there is a will there is a way. This was no easy task and was a roller coaster of ups and downs, many tears and much fewer laughs, but, at the end, through persistence, everything can be overcome.
Finally, in the words of the Bard, all's well that ends well. Or rather, all's well that ends. Full stop.
Having said that, I have a few corrections to make for the examiners' complete satisfaction, which should not take too long (at least that is what I envisage), but what matters now is that the mission I started back in October 2009 is now complete and that goal has been replaced by an accomplishment: a doctorate. Finally, I am Dr. Karl Micallef, Ph.D.
Firstly, it is clear that my heart is rock solid, for I faced the stress with no cardiac complications of any sort.
Secondly, truly, where there is a will there is a way. This was no easy task and was a roller coaster of ups and downs, many tears and much fewer laughs, but, at the end, through persistence, everything can be overcome.
Finally, in the words of the Bard, all's well that ends well. Or rather, all's well that ends. Full stop.
Having said that, I have a few corrections to make for the examiners' complete satisfaction, which should not take too long (at least that is what I envisage), but what matters now is that the mission I started back in October 2009 is now complete and that goal has been replaced by an accomplishment: a doctorate. Finally, I am Dr. Karl Micallef, Ph.D.
Tuesday, 16 April 2013
Spring...finally
A quick break from reviewing my Ph.D. thesis prior to my viva next Thursday, primarily induced by the 'shouting' outside the window from a handful of children playing in Evelyn Gardens. Children happily running around in the sun.Yes, the sun. Finally, it is warm: 17 degrees by day, 10 degrees at night. The first 2 digit temperatures in the last 3? Maybe 4 months? An unbelievably long winter seems to be coming to an end.
In the same way that this 'mission' I started back in 2009 is (hopefully) coming to an end. But that is another story...
Monday, 8 April 2013
Monday blues...not
The reader might not be familiar with my 'new' daily weekday routine: get up, bus 14/211/414 from round the corner down to Fulham Broadway Station (6 stops), then a District Line train to Wimbledon (another 6 stops) and then a South West train to Guildford (10 stops) and a short walk from the station to the campus. 'New' simply because this has been going on for 2 months now, but in the absence of any previous posts outlining this procedure, it is still new!
In any case, missing any of the first 2 parts of the commute would inevitably lead to delays to the final time of arrival at the office, which is not pleasant, especially when you have a meeting to attend. And the Monday factor does not help. But today, it was a different story.
As soon as I was walking towards the bus stop, a bus drove past me and hey presto I was at Fulham Broadway only 4 minutes later - no lights and almost no stops. Down the stairs at the station, and the dot matrix board turned from "Wimbledon - 1min" to "Stand back, train approaching". I was at Wimbledon 15 minutes later after having skimmed through the "Metro", including seeing a biggish Starbucks ad which entitled the reader to a free latte upon stating a 'magic' word upon order. Superb. The next Guildford train was due in 6 minutes, just enough time to get a return ticket and the free latte from the Starbucks booth on the platform, I thought.
The turnstiles were open, saving a few precious seconds and the ticket machine was free. The weather was 'warm' enough not to need gloves, which meant handling the touch-screen was hassle-free and 2 minutes later I was on the platform. There was a significant queue at the coffee shop and by the time I had placed my order, I could see the train slowly approaching. As soon as the barista put the lid on, the passengers had finished boarding the train and I was the last on before the doors closed! Quite a good start to the day...and week!
9 hours later, I was on my way back home, expecting to read all about Maggie's demise on the front page of the "Evening Standard", only to find that the leading headline was on the death of another woman - an unfortunate cyclist crushed to her death in the morning rush hour. For 2 seconds I was amazed that the ES had failed to mention anything at all about the Iron Lady's passing away, but then I realised that the paper must have long been in press by the time the news was out just before 13:00...
In any case, missing any of the first 2 parts of the commute would inevitably lead to delays to the final time of arrival at the office, which is not pleasant, especially when you have a meeting to attend. And the Monday factor does not help. But today, it was a different story.
As soon as I was walking towards the bus stop, a bus drove past me and hey presto I was at Fulham Broadway only 4 minutes later - no lights and almost no stops. Down the stairs at the station, and the dot matrix board turned from "Wimbledon - 1min" to "Stand back, train approaching". I was at Wimbledon 15 minutes later after having skimmed through the "Metro", including seeing a biggish Starbucks ad which entitled the reader to a free latte upon stating a 'magic' word upon order. Superb. The next Guildford train was due in 6 minutes, just enough time to get a return ticket and the free latte from the Starbucks booth on the platform, I thought.
The turnstiles were open, saving a few precious seconds and the ticket machine was free. The weather was 'warm' enough not to need gloves, which meant handling the touch-screen was hassle-free and 2 minutes later I was on the platform. There was a significant queue at the coffee shop and by the time I had placed my order, I could see the train slowly approaching. As soon as the barista put the lid on, the passengers had finished boarding the train and I was the last on before the doors closed! Quite a good start to the day...and week!
9 hours later, I was on my way back home, expecting to read all about Maggie's demise on the front page of the "Evening Standard", only to find that the leading headline was on the death of another woman - an unfortunate cyclist crushed to her death in the morning rush hour. For 2 seconds I was amazed that the ES had failed to mention anything at all about the Iron Lady's passing away, but then I realised that the paper must have long been in press by the time the news was out just before 13:00...
Tuesday, 19 March 2013
1 week, 2 elections, many changes
As I write this, Pope Francis (I) has been officially inaugurated his Papate following Benedict's surprise resignation last month. Among the hundreds of dignitaries present was newly sworn-in Maltese Prime Minister Muscat, following last week's general election in Malta. Whilst the first election was meant to be solely driven by divine forces (though many would argue that Maltese politics are at par with the importance of religion on the tiny island), both new leaders seem to have risen to their new posts with tremendous high levels of expectation from their followers...
The first signs shown by the new Pope seem to mark an ideological shift from the traditional Church image of pomp and ceremoniousness, of which the previous Pope was a champion. I would never expect the Pope to be selling Michelangelo's "Pieta" on e-bay any time soon, but it is obvious that he wants to break away from the Church's 'wrong' association with luxury and grandness. A welcome break, although in reality this would be nothing more than going back to what the Church really should be like: a continuation of Christ's work in the world, stripped of grandeur and appealing mostly to the needy, the poor, the sinner. Not necessarily riding a donkey's back, but definitely not adorning more gold than the infamous Maltese man sporting several kilograms of shiny metal who regularly storms the streets of Valletta.
Which brings me to the next election - the Maltese general election 2013. Following a tiring and sometimes amusing 9 week long electoral campaign, the 09/03/13 election is history: a 37,000 vote majority win (or 12% difference; colossal by Malta's standards) of the Labour party over the Nationalist party. A break from the 'blues' after 15 years in power (some even argue 25 years, ignoring the 1996-1998 Labour spell). A new captain who aims to steer Malta for the next 5 years free from traditional partisan politics but with a progressive attitude typically associated with the 'reds'. After less than two weeks in power, the new premier and his ministers have been quizzed and followed earnestly by the press, almost expectant that the implementation of the electoral manifesto which brought them to power is fulfilled. Apparently, some are unaware that there are yet another 258 weeks for this legislature to end.
Which almost brings me to the end of this post. Whilst the Pope's mandate is somewhat beyond his control given that it is terminated when the Maker calls his earthly representative home (although Benedict proved otherwise), the Maltese government has a clear cut-off point (although, again, rebel MPs in the 1996-1998 and the 2008-2013 terms proved otherwise, albeit with a 9 seat majority this should not be an issue). In both cases, however different in terms of scale and repercussion, the 2 newly elected leaders are expected to bring about significant changes during their respective tenures, ultimately to the benefit of their own followers, us citizens. However, it is really up to the followers themselves to give them sufficient time and not mount them with unnecessary pressures to realise their agendas, earthly or otherwise, and allow them to steer the 'movements' they lead and efficiently reach their goals, whether they are social and economic ones or even metaphysical, eternal ambitions.
The first signs shown by the new Pope seem to mark an ideological shift from the traditional Church image of pomp and ceremoniousness, of which the previous Pope was a champion. I would never expect the Pope to be selling Michelangelo's "Pieta" on e-bay any time soon, but it is obvious that he wants to break away from the Church's 'wrong' association with luxury and grandness. A welcome break, although in reality this would be nothing more than going back to what the Church really should be like: a continuation of Christ's work in the world, stripped of grandeur and appealing mostly to the needy, the poor, the sinner. Not necessarily riding a donkey's back, but definitely not adorning more gold than the infamous Maltese man sporting several kilograms of shiny metal who regularly storms the streets of Valletta.
Which brings me to the next election - the Maltese general election 2013. Following a tiring and sometimes amusing 9 week long electoral campaign, the 09/03/13 election is history: a 37,000 vote majority win (or 12% difference; colossal by Malta's standards) of the Labour party over the Nationalist party. A break from the 'blues' after 15 years in power (some even argue 25 years, ignoring the 1996-1998 Labour spell). A new captain who aims to steer Malta for the next 5 years free from traditional partisan politics but with a progressive attitude typically associated with the 'reds'. After less than two weeks in power, the new premier and his ministers have been quizzed and followed earnestly by the press, almost expectant that the implementation of the electoral manifesto which brought them to power is fulfilled. Apparently, some are unaware that there are yet another 258 weeks for this legislature to end.
Which almost brings me to the end of this post. Whilst the Pope's mandate is somewhat beyond his control given that it is terminated when the Maker calls his earthly representative home (although Benedict proved otherwise), the Maltese government has a clear cut-off point (although, again, rebel MPs in the 1996-1998 and the 2008-2013 terms proved otherwise, albeit with a 9 seat majority this should not be an issue). In both cases, however different in terms of scale and repercussion, the 2 newly elected leaders are expected to bring about significant changes during their respective tenures, ultimately to the benefit of their own followers, us citizens. However, it is really up to the followers themselves to give them sufficient time and not mount them with unnecessary pressures to realise their agendas, earthly or otherwise, and allow them to steer the 'movements' they lead and efficiently reach their goals, whether they are social and economic ones or even metaphysical, eternal ambitions.
Sunday, 17 March 2013
Like a Phoenix
Although I have never actually died, for a couple of months this blog almost died but today I decided to resuscitate it and bring it back to life. You see, whilst writing a 300+ page Ph.D. thesis, going home and actually sitting in front of a word-processor style application (such as a blogging tool) is almost a masochistic event. But that is now the past, at least for the time being, and so here I am!
It is a quiet Sunday evening, bringing to an end one rather uneventful weekend, except the recollection of last weekend's brief trip to Malta and back. And another 'successful' completion of another one of my Malta series acrylic paintings, which I am posting hereunder, quite literally for the sake of illustration.
Since moving from Ealing back to South Kensington, much has happened in these few months, and I will try to catch up with the backlog, but very briefly, these were the highlights:
July 2012: Trip to Marrakesh, Morocco (follow-up later definitely required)
August 2012: The London 2012 Olympics, 'Taming of the Shrew' at the Globe, summer break at Malta
September 2012: Went up the Centre Point Tower, last Freshers' Week at Imperial
October 2012: Started the last year of my 20s
November 2012: Visited the Eden Project, first experimentation with the aforementioned acrylic painting, started writing-up
December 2012: First draft of thesis completed, lived through 12/12/12, first (and last) attempt at ice-skating, first hand at poker, first decent trip to Malta in ages (3 week long and with plenty of 'intellectually-inspiring' events)
January 2013: Last month at Imperial and enjoying student status, started following a 9 week long electoral campaign, attended a Joseph Calleja concert (in London), completed my thesis
February 2013: Submitted my thesis and started working as a research fellow at the University of Surrey, Pope Benedict XVI resigns
March 2013: Flew to Malta for 65 hours to cast a vote (well, 2), saw a change in government, flew back to London, Pope Francis is elected
Until the next one...
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