It's a new dawn, it's a new day!

Two weeks (almost three!) have gone by since the long-awaited big day and almost as much as to my new life in London as a married man. To be quite honest, I found it much harder to settle back into the London routine and, especially, to resume with my academic work, than my wife found it to adjust herself to a new city, a new country, a new life. She is progressing through it all seamlessly, while I seem to be lagging behind. Truly embarrassing! Nevertheless, I will summarise what these past few weeks have entailed for us both here in London as we ended March and ventured into April...

Soon after flying to London, it was all about the logistical hassles of unpacking suitcases, filling up wardrobes, decorating rooms, buying supplies and all those necessary antics associated with moving in to a new place. Various trips to stores, supermarkets and the high street, in addition to the added bonus of being 2 rather than 1, happily made these otherwise stressful antics a pleasure! With Easter round the corner, a couple of College closure days meant that we had to organise some extra-curricular activities, both out and indoors, and these started off with a trip down to the Richmond area of the River Thames, to Syon Park/House to be more precise. A pleasant visit to a "garden" which required an hour to explore, countless numbers of pictures (needless to say!) and an interesting tour of the Robert-Adam-designed Syon House, which is the home of some Duke. Very English indeed. A chilled day finished off by a visit to a garden centre and a purchase of an indoor plant for our room!

The obvious religious chain of events which is what Easter is really all about started off on the Thursday with a "Passover meal" in our hall of residence, complete with old-school candle lighting, unleavened bread, wine and a thorough explanation of what the Passover was really about. A new way of celebrating the Maundy Thursday, which incidentally was the first time I did this outside of Malta. Good Friday 2010 had to be done without the usually compulsory visit to a Maltese village where the figure procession takes place. I dare say that the English way of celebrating Good Friday is far more secular than anyone in Malta would ever dream of; indeed, the religious celebration was topped off by tea and hot-cross-buns! All in all, it was a new way of living the Easter spirit.

On Saturday night, we ventured off for an Easter vigil service in a nearby Catholic church. A service which kicked off at 8pm and lasted till 10.30pm, at which point we were smelling of incense and with an overdose of Gregorian-chant-style singing in our heads. Catholicism in England is really conservative - they do love their ceremonial antics here! Easter Sunday was started off in truly Maltese style with a devouring of a Maltese figolla shipped all the way from the Med a week earlier and then continued with a trip to Westminster Abbey, where a morning service was held in the most enchanting of settings and with superb organ playing and real choir singing, which was wonderful. Obviously, the whole ceremonial parts did not lack here, either. Finally, Sunday was concluded with a great dinner in an Italian restaurant and some really awesome dessert and a good night's sleep!

The bank holiday on Monday was nothing more but lazy and chilled, with nothing more than a visit to Holland Park and the high street. By Tuesday, the guilt feelings started to kick in and I made my way to Imperial to check out where my work was at...and it seemed that "normal" life was about to resume from the rest of the week onwards. Normal in terms of work, that is, for now it is far more exciting than before: I have a wife awaiting me at home! Spring is well known to spur new life and, in my case, a new lifestyle indeed! And I am loving it!

Where do I begin?

I anticipated this moment: I knew I would have tons to write about after these past 2-3 weeks. Actually, this blog was intended to be limited to occurrences taking place in London, but the course of recent events definitely merits to have something written down about them. The main event: what will probably be the happiest day of my life until the day I father a child. Yes, my wedding day. I am sure that this will be a long post, so I ask the reader to bear with me!

So the adventure started on Friday 12th March 2010, with an AirMalta flight from LHR to Malta. Prior to my commute to the airport, I bid my London colleagues one final goodbye as a single man and that was the first point when I realised the purpose of this particular trip: I was going to Malta to get married! And so the adrenaline started to kick in. The 30 minute delay, not unusual for Heathrow, further escalated my urge to be back home. We landed at 1.15 am, but I was unusually energetic and could not sleep that night. I was initially shocked to find that it was actually raining in Malta when only a few weeks before it was terribly hot. The rain did persist till Tuesday but then the enviable Mediterranean sun dominated for the rest of the week...

Saturday 13th March started off with a couple of errands: buying the booze, affecting payments and last-minute meetings with the parties involved. My wife-to-be and I then headed home separately to physically and mentally prepare ourselves for 2 events which are equally unique as the wedding itself: the stag and hen night. I had been left completely in the dark as to what awaited me; my brief to my (male) friends was, "I am open to anything, as long as I get fed and do not go to my wedding with a black eye and/or in crutches". A brief which they strictly adhered to: I was picked up by a mate at 8pm and headed off to the north of Malta and started off with a dinner at Fat Harry's in Bugibba. Generous steak portions and ample red wine, alongside ever-increasing levels of chit-chat, joking and noise, dominated the night. Until the cake was brought out...a tasty, chocolate gateaux with an ominous image of 2 cartoon characters exhibiting a particular coital position adorning its top. Most of the cream from the cake suddenly ended up behaving as hair gel and facial cream. Quite expected on a stag night...so far, so good. The dining bit was finished off by my friends giving me 2 gifts: a travelling-friendly sized Kama Sutra and a larger hardback version of a similar textbook...

The night progressed in a modest karaoke bar in Bugibba's main square, which on that particular night was hosting rain, wind and occasional spillages of sea water from the troubled waves underneath. The karaoke place was suddenly transformed from a peaceful lodge for amateur singers to a wild partying venue for us boys. A pitcher of Jack-Coke was emptied in seconds and substituted by a bottle of neat Jack, most of which somehow found its way into my system and this triggered me to sabotage the stage and the karaoke show. A remarkable version of Bohemian Rhapsody started off the performance, complete with me mimicking the guitar solo on top of the bar tables, improvised chorus parts between us males during the opera section and severe head-banging antics (synchronised with the "heavy" section towards the end) from my part. Another rock classic followed: November rain, which was mainly a solo project, including a vocal implementation of the Slash solo. And a final number: Mamma mia (or some other Abba song, I am not sure) which somehow led to us all being expelled from the place...

The group ended up in the pouring rain and thus we all headed to a bus stop, where we consumed champagne. The night was still young, so we raided a nearby bar. Pitchers of vodka with any additive possible (Red bull, orange, lime etc.) featured throughout the rest of the night. At some point, I was thrown out, soaked with water, bathed in flour (which then turned into dough by the end of the night) and ended up taking off my shirt in an attempt to cleanse myself. The rest of the night is beyond my recollection. I know that I was driven back home by one of my mates, who miraculously delivered me safe and sound to the correct address following my directions which (quoting) were as good as that of any GPS. Once at home, I was cleansed and had a solid 5 hour sleep for another day of preparations awaited me!

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday evenings entailed my future wife and I hosting our guests at our parents' houses. Very tiring but pleasant evenings, accompanied by loads of work in the mornings: preparing customised thank you notes for guests, table layouts, delivery arrangements and clothes collections. And, naturally, 4 days which brought about tons of gifts from all our relatives and friends - a big thank you to all the readers who contributed to these gifts! Thursday and Friday were generally days of relative rest, with Thursday finished off by a night out with my dad and uncles, consisting of a typical Maltese meal of rabbit, horse and quail (heaven!) and Friday night being the last one as a single man. After picking up my ex room-mate (who travelled all the way from China for this special occasion) from the airport, I slept at 2am and woke up at 8am...and it was Saturday 20th March, the day I was awaiting for ages!

The entire morning was packed: I wanted to make sure all was nothing short of perfect. Trips to the church and reception venue to check on flowers, table layouts, music, food and all that jazz. I headed home at 2pm and started to get ready. Once all clean and ready in trousers/shirt/waist coast/bow/tail coat as well as my brand new shoes, the videographer and photographer started their job by shooting at home. A huge Mercedes drove me to the church and I patiently waited for my bride to turn up. As I caught sight of the Rolls parking outside, my heart started to pound for a few minutes, until I saw her: beautiful. Simply beautiful. The church service was moving - the knot was tied! I was the happiest man in the world!

At the end of the service, we made our way to the Villa Corinthia in our Rolls (after being showered with paper roses and presented with a glass of champagne). We found a crowd awaiting us there in the most enchanting venue which I had always imagined as being the only setting for my wedding years ago. The exceptional photographer stole 15 minutes to take a set of amazing images of my newly-wed wife and I against a backdrop of sensitively illuminated Maltese stone featuring some of the most lavish of Art Nouveau designs on the island. And then we made our solemn entry in the dining hall and the fun started!

The food was impeccable, the wine constantly topped up, the service flawless and the setting magical. With light jazz in the background, candle lighting, suggestive general lighting over crisply white walls and marbles floors, the setting was simply perfect. The evening also included my first (and, hopefully, last) public singing performance, which was totally unplanned; I intended to play a song for my wife but not sing, but the musician we hired insisted I ought to sing and so I did! The first dance, the subsequent dancing, the cake cutting and goodbyes brought the evening to a delightful end in the early hours of the 21st of March: a new season, a new spring, a new life.

The 2 newly weds, my wife and I, then ventured for a further 3 days in the same luxurious 5 star hotel which hosted the wedding reception. And the service was fit for any royal couple! Firstly, a delightful surprise in the wedding suite: a huge bottle of Moet et Chandon from a dear friend, constant greetings from the staff, offers of coffee and liquor from the managers, ample usage of the spa/pool/jacuzzi/sauna facilities and marvellous buffet breakfasts and dinners in the hotel restaurants. Once again: perfect. Alas, all good things come to an end...the stay at the hotel, that is. The new life as a married man was still about to start...in London! On Tuesday 23rd, we flew to London and here we are now!

Honestly, these few words are not enough to describe the joy, emotion and splendour of the day. I am sure every couple says that their wedding day was great and I cannot not apply this maxim to our own wedding: it was flawless! It has been almost a week since that fateful day and although details may start to fade from my memory, the magic of it all will endure forever. Now that we are both in London, I am sure many adventures will follow which will feature on this blog! But now, it is Friday evening and off we are to the pub!

February summed up

I have such a bad backlog with posting but the past few weeks were totally crazy! In a positive way, of course. I will try to summarise all that was going on here as far as I can recall and as long as I do not think this is becoming excessively boring!

After two consecutive weeks of playing host in early February, I did considerable progress in my Ph.D. work after many days of troubling mathematics, journal paper hunting, scribbling, gnashing of teeth, yells of, "Eureka" and what not...the end result: 5 or 6 pages of equations, 6x6 matrices with each entry being 2 lines long...all trying to describe how a material strains as its response to load. Sounds simple, but it is not that simple. Mathematical job done, "all" that is left to do is implement it as a FORTRAN program...but I believe I will stop here because this is getting way too technical. Summary: I reached a goal right in time before my trip to Malta at the end of the month...

A very short trip of 70 hours, most of which were spent driving all over the island, covering probably 200km (which is the equivalent of the length of 10 Maltas), but it was precisely the motive of my trip and, besides, it was good fun! Needless to say, being my first trip since Christmas, I had to consume some of my favourite foods, pastizzi on top of the list. And the weather? 24 degrees in February...unbelievable! It was a trip with a particular 'first' and 'last': it was my first trip from Luton airport with Ryanair and it was my last flight travelling alone Malta-London. Obviously one is far more exciting than the other...alas, I returned to London on Monday night and resumed with my routine here! I landed back in my place at 1am and had to get up at 5.30am since (off all days!) they decided to do a fire alarm drill on the night between Monday and Tuesday...argh!

This first week of March was quite interesting: on Wednesday I went to a concert with some office mates at Cadogan Hall which featured the brilliant guitarist John Williams, the interpreter of the tune Cavatina from De Niro movie The Deer Hunter. It was a good concert indeed - if only I had more time (and money!) to exploit all of the cultural events in London! Thursday presented a dinner outing in Covent Garden with old friends: had awesome linguine with vongole which reminded me of Malta. Friday was the usual trip to the pub...actually was a number of trips to different pubs, finished off by a Lebanese kebab as a midnight snack. Saturday was the first official office event which I, taking up my usual role of master of ceremonies in whichever workplace I am, tried to organise: an international food night. Not a very varied cuisine (Italian, English, Maltese) but it was a good and fun night of food, chit-chat, gossip, games and a late night/early morning taxi trip back home!

Now that Sunday is drawing to an end, it is time to get ready for another week...in my case, my final week as a bachelor since, on Friday, I head back to the smaller island precisely to wed! Yes! It is finally happening! It is the final countdown! Right now, as I get ready for what I think is the 2nd biggest decision of my life (the 1st being one I will take in the future, i.e., fathering children), I am a complex mixture of emotion: joy, excitement, fear and whatever other feeling I cannot describe with words, but whose overall resultant is definitely positive. I am afraid I will not have time in the next few days/weeks to post anything and so I believe that the next time I will drop a few lines, I will be Mr. & Mrs. Karl Micallef! And that transition will deserve one hell of a post!

"Is there life on Mars?"

Note:

This is actually not related to anything I was doing lately in particular; it is nothing more but an essay which I recently wrote as my submission in an essay competition aimed at answering the following question, "What are the prospects of finding life on other planets?" The essay had to be limited to (just!) 800 words and the final submission was actually a curtailed version of the following write-up. I doubt that I will win since I am not that good in these kind of scientific discussions but I did my best...so there you go!

“Is there life on Mars?” was the question put forward by David Bowie in his 1971 surreal song with (almost) the same title. Such a question coming from Bowie might not have been much of a surprise since his obsession with space has been evident in many ways throughout his career: his Ziggy Stardust personification of a rock star sporting make-up and costumes which made him seem to have come from an alien planet and the more obvious Space oddity album, to name a few. The relative light heartedness of Bowie’s fixation on extraterrestrial life is the subject matter of many members of the scientific community who have been allocating endless efforts in an attempt to find an answer to the query.

Indeed, the quest for life on other planets other than Earth has not been limited to the slightly eccentric people like glam rock idols in the like of Bowie; extraterrestrial life has fascinated people from all walks of life and on all levels imaginable. Consider international politics, for example. The Americans have a long-lasting link with the quest for life on other planets or even visits of vehicles and species from such planets to Earth. The infamous Roswell incident, the consistent secrecy associated with the Area 51 military base and annual multi-billion dollar NASA budgets suggest that an interest in the mission for finding extraterrestrial life is up and running in the States. In literature, John Gray’s relationship manual Men are from Mars, women are from Venus of 1992 has become a modern classic, where the two genders comprising the human race are associated with two planets within our solar system – an extension of a concept explored by the classical Romans, who associated Venus with beauty and Mars with war. In more recent times, the movie industry has also sought to create a portrayal of how the relationship between Earthlings and alien residents of the celestial body Pandora in the blockbuster Avatar, although, understandably, in that movie the real aliens are actually us humans!

However, the hope of finding life beyond Earth has more serious effects than American conspiracy theories about UFO landings or James Cameron’s capabilities in creating special effects. The foremost preamble which comes to mind is, “What is life?” and hence be able to postulate on whether life can be found on other planets. Indeed, Professor Robert Hazen of the George Mason University of Virginia wrote, “I think the chances are good we won’t know alien life when we see it” and this is possibly the most fundamental question one has to ask and fulfil a prerequisite for identifying life beyond Earth. The very notion of life cannot be limited to the concept of an intelligent life form which is known as homo sapiens and which, debatably, commences at the moment of conception and ceases at a point when, again even more arguably, when oxygen fails to reach the brain. Even in the much wider picture, life cannot be limited to anything built from a basic unit – the cell – which is based on some chemical combination to form DNA. It is true that whatever substances defining this molecule decompose at extreme elevated or freezing temperatures and thus unlikely to survive outside of Earth, but what if there is another life building block which is not DNA and can survive otherwise hostile conditions too close or too far away from our Sun or any other solar system in the universe?

Beyond all the biological and scientific theories involved in this investigation, there is another realm which is even beyond the microscopically visible: the metaphysics. Virtually all of the world’s major religions have a form of creation narrative in which a supernatural, divine power formed the Earth and all life within it. The Christian Church, which for centuries dominated the Old World in its theocratic ways and even considered theories of progressive scientists such as Galileo Galilei (who, at the time, challenged the Church teaching that the Earth was at the centre of the Universe) to be heretical, has come a long way: in recent years, Vatican astronomer Fr. Gabriel Funes SJ stated that intelligent life forms created by God could exist in space. Even with such expectant comments from one of the world’s largest religions, many moral issues are surely associated with any eventual discovery of life beyond Earth and which might require reshuffling in current schools of thought limited by Kant’s deontological ethics. What rights would extraterrestrial beings have should these not possess any compatible linguistic capabilities through which they might communicate with us?

The original question cannot be fully explored with the limitations of this short essay but I can confidently draw one definite conclusion: rather than devote our efforts, financial and intellectual, in the hope of finding life on other planets, us humans ought to focus on safeguarding life on our planet: protecting the Earth’s finite resources and ensuring a better quality of life for ourselves and future generations. In failing to do so, we might be forced to emigrate to some other planet, be it fit for us or not, and optimistically happily cohabit with whatever life-form we find there!

A fistful of events

Thank God for the weekend! It is Saturday evening and I am still waking up from last night's sleep of almost 11 hours. You might, understandably, be saying that I sleep too much and agree with my former room-mate who always rebukes my plentiful sleeping by saying that sleeping is a waste of time since I can sleep when I am dead. True, especially when you have so much things to do: read books, write stuff, watch movies and wander around London (weather permitting). But this weekend I needed to catch up on sleep and rest badly after a series of days packed with events...

Two weeks ago, my better half paid me a visit from Malta. A brief, 3-day visit but, albeit being short-lived, it was planned only a few days in advance and I always think that spontaneous events like this are the best ones! The days before were characterised by the big freeze of early 2010 but that weekend was dominated by a combination of blue sky, sunshine and chilly weather - in my opinion, the best for outdoor activities around London. It is amazing that after almost 2 years of being in London, I still manage to find new places to visit and enjoy, partially because of my obsession with buildings and architecture but I would debate that by saying, "Isn't it true that what make a city, such as London, is nothing else but buildings?" In the short visit in the best of company, I managed to visit the magnificent Wembley Stadium, participate (or rather, be an observer) in a real Hindu prayer ceremony in the largest Hindu temple outside of India, enjoy magnificent night views of London from a height of 42 floors, wander around the eerie Highgate Cemetery and the compulsory visit to the South Bank area. Not to mention the abundance of food consumption, including a trip to my favourite China Town restaurant. All in all, it was a great weekend!

Shortly after, another Maltese friend paid me a visit, this time for 5 days. An architect like me with a similar obsession with buildings, we did not fail to tour around the capital's most notorious architectural gems - Docklands, the City, Liverpool Street, Broadgate, Moorgate and the Barbican - as well as long walks around the West End, Camden, Borough Market and one final walk all the way from Victoria to Earls Court along the Thames, via Stamford Bridge. I estimate that in less than 2 days, we walked more than the equivalent of Malta's length - that's an entire country! Honestly, I had been to all of these sites (to some, more than once actually), but I dare say that each time I visit these amazing sites, I am still struck with awe and wonder at the beauty, design and detail of these structures. If only I had been to London before I started my undergraduate degree - seeing all the top notch buildings LIVE! Needless to say, while my friend was here, we exchanged hours' worth of chit-chat, debates and gibberish talk and a couple of good food too; we are, after all, Maltese! My friend's visit came to a end and I was left with my second consecutive weekend of almost 24/7 activity with no "weekend bonus" sleep...

The rest of the week was then filled with further out-of-routine events for me. My supervisor's father funeral was a sad event which demanded me and my Imperial colleagues attending to. I will not bother going into the whole metaphysical discussion of my views towards death; will just say RIP Mr. Louca, Snr. The funeral was "only" just outside London, but required train journeys and walks to/from the church, which further accumulated my tiredness. The following day was a more exciting day for me: a visit to the DSTL facilities at Porton Down in Salisbury. The visit required strict admission verification and all that usual political crap; I could not even keep my mobile phone turned on while I was there and had to be escorted by authorised personnel even to visit the bathroom! I am bound by professional secrecy not to reveal much content but it was an exciting day indeed...and, after all was done and dusted, while I was waiting for the next London train, I took the opportunity to visit Salisbury Cathedral before the sun set: a serendipitous trip to a magnificent Gothic cathedral which has England's highest spire! The trip to Salisbury required almost 2 hours each way by train and, in addition to a long day of talks, discussions and presentations, I was utterly exhausted.

Finally, Friday arrived! Thank God it's Friday, more than ever! The day went by less painfully than I expected and the weekend started! A brief trip to the pub brought the week to an end and finally I could sleep, chill and do nothing! I am concluding here, partly because I am getting hungry and need to fetch some dinner and also because there is nothing else to narrate! I am sure that there will be even more eventful posts in the pipeline, so watch out!

Dwar il-kamra l-baxxa

Health and safety hazard:

Dear reader, if you fall in one or more of these categories: are easily disgusted by mention and/or description of bodily waste; have eaten recently/intend to eat shortly; are not interested whatsoever in matters related to my excretion practices; then I suggest you close this window and proceed with some other fruitful Internet browsing. Otherwise, read on, but you have been warned....

I excuse myself with the non-Maltese readers for putting a Maltese title for this post, but I simply could not think of an English equivalent: "il-kamra l-baxxa" is the polite way for us Maltese to refer to the wo/men's toilet room...I know, there is lavatory, restroom but I do not think they actually have the same effect (and, by the way, the prefix "dwar" in the title is simply a word meaning "concerning". Thus, this post is, quite frankly, concerned with the toilet). The literal translation of "il-kamra l-baxxa" would be "the low room", a label whose origin I am not totally sure of: it is either related to the fact that, in the past, the toilet was apparently placed in a low-roofed room (which does not make sense since you would want a higher floor-to-ceiling height to ease with fume diffusion, if you know what I mean, but maybe that is too much of an architect's view, or else it is a title given to the room which deserves to be at the lowest in the hierarchy of importance within a dwelling, which I totally believe is not the case, since this room is actually quite vital, as this post will illustrate...

In my first science lessons back in the first year of secondary school, my science teacher taught me that, for an organism to be classified as "alive", it must exhibit 7 vital functions, one of which is precisely that of excretion. Thus, I very strongly believe that there is nothing wrong and/or disgusting with me talking about this subject since the lack of it would imply that I am not alive! However, for the vast majority of my life, I have been very reluctant in exhibiting this vital sign when I am out of home. Let me rephrase: I have been very uncomfortable relieving my digestive tract from solid waste when I am out of home (fluids are quite easy in the case of men, even when the necessary toilet-ware is not present - a tree, corner or wherever will do, provided public decency is respected!) But then the notion of having to sit down for any period ranging from a few seconds to a couple of minutes on a public toilet has always troubled me. Until I stepped into the real world...

Once I started working in the industry, for 8 hour long days, it would have been a masochistic practice to refrain from getting rid of body waste whenever this was necessary during working hours. Thus, I had to let go - well, quite literally - and get used to the idea of using a toilet which is not within my home. There was one catch: in all offices I worked, there was always a single men's toilet, which meant that I would be in a sanctuary of solitude where all my affairs are done in full privacy with no interference from third parties. So far, so good. This was actually good practice for my time in London when, again, at 2000km away from home, I had no choice but to get used to using "stranger" toilets. Once more, I had an ensuite bathroom and shared a room with a very considerate room mate; we had out-of-phase WC-using habits and this proved to be very convenient. Bliss. Until a few months ago, I moved back to London, where I had to get used to the fantastic notion of shared WCs and 8 hour long days at Imperial where, unlike the small scale offices I was used to, had many WCs in a single room to cater for several dozen men!

Scenario: early on during the day, the abdominal urge for freedom increases exponentially with time and I have to go...well, I do, only to find that, in an adjacent cubicle, there is someone else. I go in, lock myself and sit. I twist and turn, awaiting the moment when my neighbour decides to get it over and done with, leaves the room and leaves me in the peace and quiet I need to do my job. Across the partition, I hear the hustle of a newspaper. "God! Why won't he hurry up and read it on the Tube instead!" I feel completely uncomfortable with the very thought of doing it when I know there is someone else next to me less than a metre away, reading a newspaper! But other people seem not to be bothered. The noise of paper is suddenly accompanied by a sharp release of body-induced gas, as if my presence is completely non-existent. I would not even dream of doing that! But apparently others simply cannot be bothered! At long last the moment arrives when he has read enough and flushes. The noise of flushing water is enough to disguise my own initial relief which, by now, has reached an intolerable limit and is past the point of no return.

A similar incident happened then in my hall of residence, only that this time the roles were reversed. I was in my cubicle first, peacefully having my daily dose of The Evening Standard Sudoku, when someone walked into the room. The dude politely sat down in his cubicle and sat there quietly waiting for me to make my move. Only that I was still not completely satisfied yet and, besides, this particular puzzle was quite challenging and wanted to finish it then! The delay was lengthy enough for that guy to pull up his trousers, leave the room and seek an alternative restroom! So at least this one had the decency not to do it when he knew someone else was in the room!

These are some of the incidents which on an almost daily basis I have to face. To date, I still cannot fathom the idea of how I can use the WC in #2 mode when I am not alone in the room. Perhaps that will be the next step...fully letting go and do-what-you-have-to-do, irrespective of whether I am alone or not! But I find that utterly disgusting! However, thinking about it, perhaps it is not that uncivilised after all. The Romans, who were the most cultured and civilised people of their time, had communal toilets, where men sat (stark naked) in a circle, sitting down next to each other, with no dividing partitions, and did their thing quite openly. I know this is how they did it since I actually have been to a number of Roman ruins and sat on some of these public toilet things...fully clothed and just to take a picture and not have a go, of course (see above). Mmmm, perhaps it is not that bad after all!

"Everywhere you go...

...you always take the weather with you" - so did Crowded House sing back in the early 1990s. Apparently, this does not work with me! I pointed out in a previous post that in the last days of 2009 and first couple of weeks of 2010, it was quite cold here in the UK but not in Malta; while freezing temperatures and several centimetres of snow were covering most parts of the UK (and indeed the whole of Europe), I was enjoying 24 degrees on Christmas Day back home! A 'white Christmas' is definitely something which the Maltese will never enjoy in their homeland, unless the Earth is struck by some giant meteorite which will push the planet a few thousand kilometres further away from the sun! Alas, when I came back, I found London to be slightly colder than how I left it - I failed to bring the weather with me. You got it: this is all about the current weather situation here...

My first few days at Imperial involved a lot of catching up: notably, resuming my work on my Ph.D. (which is now in its fourth month) but also recapitulating with my colleagues after the Christmas break. I have been the envy of virtually all of my friends at Imperial whenever I mentioned that Malta was quite warm with the lowest temperature was about 15 degrees at night: everyone else was struggling with the cold in the UK, Italy, France or whatever other country...all except one, who was in India over Christmas and spent the first days of "winter" in 34 degrees or more. I have rarely complained of being cold since I have been in London, but this winter was very much an exceptionally cold one. Almost all parts of Europe were battered by icy winds and snowstorms from the Arctic and Siberia and these brought transportation to a standstill: rail, air and road traffic was (literally) frozen for a few days and London was not spared from all this.

While I was at home, I received an email from my hall's warden asking me the date of my return so that my room's heating can be switched on in advance in order for me to find it nice and warm upon my return. My reply: please do not turn it on! I have never switched on my bedroom's heater (honestly!) but I must say that when I returned to London, it was quite cold, even for my taste. For a few days, the maximum temperature was 1 or 2 degrees and went sub-zero at night, the former forcing me to wear 1 extra layer of clothing and the latter implied that I had to keep my bedroom's window closed at night. Buildings here are designed to keep the cold outside and thus are usually warm enough. But in my daily walks to and from Imperial and other places, I had to resort to my thicker jacket, scarf and, most importantly, gloves. I simply could not afford to take my gloves off to handle my iPod or mobile: my fingers would otherwise simply fall off! Luckily, I still have all 10 to date...

For a Maltese citizen like me, the sight of snow is always thrilling, worthy of photographs and SMSes/emails/Facebook status updates to notify the rest of the Maltese population of the event. One particular day this week, I woke up and found that all the snow was gone, which I thought occurred surprisingly fast. None fell during that day but, upon waking up the next day, everywhere was one big patch of white. I was amazed at how much snow could fall overnight - I headed to Hyde Park without any trace of guilt of leaving my Ph.D. work awaiting me (it could wait till snowless days!) and let myself enjoy the unusual sights of greenery replaced by a uniform shade of white. Including the Serpentine, which was all frozen and turned to ice; unbelievable.

The big chill did last till midweek or so and I thought that snow was now becoming more of a nuisance rather than a source of excitement. Once it gets walked upon, it consolidates and becomes ice: terribly dangerous sources of slips (from which I was luckily spared, although forced me to walk at 5cm/s). Not to mention the effect of car traffic, turning to wonderful white snow into dirty, grey mushy stuff. Eugh. The 1 or 2 degree temperatures were becoming too persistent that I thought Sainsbury's might consider changing their food labels from "Keep refrigerated" to "Keep refrigerated or place on window sill" but I was wrong. Temperatures are now up to 7 or 8 degrees and I am back to normal: no excessive clothing, normal thin jacket and window open 24/7. Which brings me to the last unfortunate incident for the week...

Friday night and all its glory arrived: pub, movie, late night. Plan: do not wake up the next day unless motivated by biological needs (feeding and/or excretion). Picture this: 8.30am, keen workmen operate a jackhammer on some concrete roof a few metres from my (open) bedroom window. Result: I inevitably have to get up to close my window and try to get back to sleep. The double glazing helped cut off the sound but only for a few minutes. The wonderful London weather decides to start off the day with a shower, forcing the workmen to call it a day. The jackhammer noise stops but I am already up...so I have to say, "Screw it, I might as well get up!" and that was the ruin of my planned Saturday morning lie in. Thank you, weather.

So back to where I started: when I returned from Malta, I terribly failed in brining the weather back with me. But there is some hope: this week promises will be "warmer" than the last couple of days and, as I expect a spontaneous visit from Malta in a few days' time by my other half followed by another visit by a friend of mine, I pray that, this time round, the message from the Crowded House song does materialise and they bring along some good dose of Mediterranean sun!