"This is my dream"

I am aware of the fact that this blog was meant to be devoted to London and how my times in the city are unfolding. However, I broke this continuity in the last post since I referred to my last visit to Malta and described most of the events which took place over last weekend. I am afraid I am going to proceed with yet another post which is more or less Malta-specific but which I cannot help not writing about: the Eurovision song festival.

For the past couple of years (I could almost safely say "decades"), the Eurovision is the highlight of Malta's cultural calendar. There are 101 issues which need to be tackled in Malta from various aspects of life: social, economic, political (I will illustrate just one aspect later on)...but around the beginning of February, the country pauses all its operations in order for it to hold a Song for Europe festival. This usually features the same couple of singers singing songs written by the same couple of songwriters - a totally predictable affair of Mr.X singing a ballad-type song, Mrs.Y singing a pop-style song and so on and so forth. This year, the winning song was a ballad (surprise, surprise) and was won by a newcomer to the local music scene. Hundreds of minutes worth of airtime on all TV channels followed, discussing the song, the video, the dress, the singer's likes and dislikes and other such stupid waste of time devoted to these futile matters rather than discussing more useful matters relevant to the country's well-being. And all this built up a momentum up to May, when the real festival takes place.

Since last year Malta failed miserably in securing a decent placing, this year's song had to first qualify through a semi-final night and then be "promoted" to the final night. And, yet again, the country came to a standstill on Tuesday night when the semi-final took place. Unless you are Maltese, you might not know that Malta failed to qualify. I predict that once this poor lass returns back to the rock, another limitless array of TV discussions, analysis, debates and intellectual efforts consumed in trying to decipher why Malta failed to qualify will follow. My opinion about all this: stop this nonsense once and for all! Stop participating in this damn festival and set up our own annual music festival, in the same way the Italians have done with San Remo years ago. I can find a thousand reasons why we should not take part in this Eurovision anymore but will illustrate myself with one: financial.

Let me start off my argument with a set of case studies from the local context and which prove that one should not talk of absolute numbers but rather in terms of relativity (do not worry, dear reader, this is not a discussion of Einstein's theory of relativity).

For almost 20 years, the Maltese have been constructing a new general hospital which turned out to be a subject of controversy and debate but which finally was completed a year or 2 ago and is now one of the largest medical complexes in Europe. This monster of a project costs the Maltese tax payers about 2,300,000 Euro each week to run. This works out to be almost 300 Euro per minute (there is a specific reason why I am working out the cost per minute). Considering that this is a noble cause which provides such a service to the population, then I can safely conclude that it is money well spent.

Next, the Pope's visit to Malta last month. This visit of just 26 hours cost the Maltese tax payer 750,000 Euro. The 750,000 figure might be much less than the 2,300,000 I mentioned before but this blessed visit (pun intended!) works out at 480 Euro per minute. I will not even dare mentioning whether this was money well spent or not for I do not want to risk being banned from Malta for life, but let us say that the Pope's visit was of spiritual benefit for Malta and also "promotion" of the island on BBC and CNN (although this was more due to the famous Luqa phallus rather than Ratzinger himself). So far, so good.

Now comes the bombshell. Malta's participation in the Eurovision (or rather, attempted participation) cost us dear Maltese 400,000 Euro. This is almost 50% of the last figure but considering that there is a rule which states that Eurovision songs must not exceed 3 minutes, then this works out at 133,333 Euro per minute (thus this explains why I was considering cost/minute). Need I say more? The damn Eurovision costs Malta more than it costs to run its new state-of-the-art general hospital! It might be the smallest costs of these 3 case studies I chose, but it is by far the most expensive! Malta, wake up!

And considering the fact that Malta has a national debt of 4,000,000,000 Euro (in case you got confused with the many zeros, that is 4 billion), or almost 10,000 Euro per Maltese citizen, I am sure that we can find better things to do with 400,000 Euro each year rather than spending it on a festival which is nothing more than a political lobbying exercise disguised by some scantily clad singers singing crap songs to s****y tunes.

I am not a visionary like Martin Luther King, who had a very noble dream ages ago of a world where racism does not exist. I am not Malta's 2010 Eurovision singer with a song entitled This is my dream, which dream turned out to be a nightmare. I am just an ordinary Maltese citizen who has a very simple dream: the day when Malta bans Eurovision for good! Am I asking too much?

The land of smells, yells and bells

In my last post, I hinted out that I will be soon visiting Malta and indeed I did! This was the first trip back after the wedding, almost 2 months to the day since the last time I was there in March. The trip was relatively normal, albeit that the flight was from Luton and not from the convenience of Heathrow, but luckily there were no delays and the flight itself was not cancelled due to the famous Icelandic volcanic ash which recently caused distress to thousands of travellers. Three hours after leaving Luton on Friday late afternoon, I landed in Malta and there began a 3 day trip on the rock....

Saturday morning kicked off with an interesting errand which, once more was related to the wedding but, in this case, a post wedding affair: collecting the fully edited and finished wedding video! This provided entertainment for a couple of hours and the repeated viewings of the hour long movie in no way did bore me! Such good memories now set for posterity on a cool Blue Ray disc which will be useful in future narratives (in the style of How I met your mother) to the "kids" down the line. Back to 2010. Lunch consisted of a typical Maltese bread (ftira) garnished with tomato paste, tuna, olive oil, fresh mint from the garden, goat's cheese, olives and pickled onions - heaven! Nothing in London could ever compete with this! The "smells" part from the title of this post are definitely most enticing (unlike the smells referred to by the author of that phrase which was meant to describe Malta in the 19th century). A power nap in the afternoon got me ready for the highlight of the day: the final of the Champions League, i.e., Inter vs Bayern Munich.

For the non-football-follower, it is noteworthy to state that Inter have not been in the CL final for the past 38 years and last won the CL 45 years ago! Never in my lifetime! The team's recent track record has been fantastic: first Inter won Coppa Italia, then only last week won the 5th scudetto in a row and now, to complete a treble, needed to win the CL! My friends booked a table at a local football club which was going to show the game on a big screen and there we headed on the Saturday night. The setting was typical Maltese: cheap beer (think of it, a round for 8 people for 12 Euro!), constantly-topped-up small platters free nibbles, marinated bread, chicken wings, pasta and pizza to accompany the beer and the notorious Mediterranean sounds of agitation and service which thus forms the "yells" component of the title. One particular yell stood out: as soon as we got in the venue, I inquired for the reserved table and the bloke serving us replied, "Ha niccekjalek, siehbi" (Let me check, mate) and then he called his colleague, "Malcolm" or rather, "Mell-kimm" in a harsh Maltese accent and so loud that I thought Malcolm was still at home rather than at work! To cut a long story short, the game ended up as hoped: Inter won 2-0 and there are the new European champions! And thus a perfect ending to a great Saturday!

Sunday started off with Mass (and thus the "bells" aspect of the title!) and followed by a massive lunch at home: Maltese pasta bake wrapped in pastry or timpana. I still wonder why the Brits abstain from pasta so much! I love pasta (and anything which has carbs, really). Another power nap followed and then a short trip by the sea, although I must say that the weather was not terribly appealing and/or hot - it was far hotter back in London! The evening started off with dinner at the in-laws', once more, a generous helping of pasta to make up for my lack of pasta consumption back in London (this time farfalle with smoked salmon and cream). At this point in time, I could not move an inch, but this did not restrain me from a drive to Tigne' Point, where I visited the newly finished multi-million Euro project there which I must say is reminiscent of the well designed, well detailed and well finished projects of Liverpool Street and/or Canary Wharf in London. Well done, Malta. Welcome to the world of 21st century architecture.

Finally, a new week started. I did not do much, except for paying a visit to grandma and visit a furniture showroom which was opened a few weeks earlier and for which I had done the structural design back in 2007. Yet another project which I had formed part of its design team which is now a landmark building in Malta. This is the best part of my profession: seeing a building shift from being a drawing on a piece of paper to real-life structure built of concrete and steel (in this case, loads of steel!) In the evening, off the the airport and aboard another Ryanair flight which landed on time in London in the early hours of Tuesday. And Tuesday brought about normal routine life, although it was somewhat unusual since I had to visit the DSTL facility down in Salisbury for a project meeting, which started off as an intense physical challenge but then turned out to be very fruitful...

I know that this blog was meant to be devoted to my London life, but there were a few Malta-related events worth recording. The British David Niven had once described Malta as the land of smells, yells and bells, as I earlier pointed out. A few incidents from last weekend have provided an alternative perspective of how Malta can, indeed, be the place of smells, yells and bells! Apart from the replacement of Niven's unpleasant smells associated with unhygienic slum areas of 19th century Valletta by heavenly Mediterranean food which was my indulgence for a few days, I dare say that the yells and bells have not changed and are there to stay! Truly, a case of onlyinMalta.com!

A fistful of events, mk II

I almost cannot remember the last time that I dropped a few lines in this blog...I have had so much to do that I did not even have time to think about the blog, let alone write any post, so apologies for that. I will do my best to remember all that happened since mid April (well, that merits writing about, anyway!) and be concise in keeping track of my life at London...

At Imperial College, the month of May is associated with the annual graduation ceremony. This brought about two aspects to me: a looking back at the ceremony of 2009, when I received my M.Sc. and first D.I.C. (hopefully a second will follow when I complete my Ph.D.!) and a looking forward to the ceremony of 2010, when my old room-mate and "bro" was about to receive his D.I.C. and thus a reunion of 2 old roomies. A reunion which came about only a few weeks after a previous one, for this same good old buddy traveled all the way from China to Malta for our wedding. Needless to say, the reunion meant a recollection of the many adventures shared in London, a re-enactment of many a trip to the pubs in the W8 area of London and also lots of food and talk.

On the Graduation Wednesday, we headed off for a fishy dinner at Victoria, courtesy of the graduate, where I experienced some of the nastiest alcoholic consumptions ever; some sort of Portuguese variant of grappa which was utterly awful and alcohol content whose numeric description was nothing but disturbing, to both mind and liver alike. A night finished off at one of our favourite pubs, which trip was concluded by my receipt (and not theft!) of a very interesting Guinness pint mug which now forms part of my own collection.

Friday night was somewhat different from the usual trip to a pub, for some Chemistry society at Imperial threw a free party, with food, wine and live music. The first was limited, but the wine was flowing and good, while the music was...well, after wine any music sounds good! It was good fun but was not enough, for after all was done we headed to yet another of our favourite W8 pubs and finished off the night there...till the bell rang, of course.

On Sunday, I had an unusual trip to an unusual pub near Waterloo. I discovered the concept of an "open mic", where aspiring musicians can sign up to play in a pub hosting the "open mic", for free. For the past couple of weeks I had been playing with 2 colleagues from Imperial and we created a number of our own songs and decided it would be good to play in public. And there you go, we headed off to this place in Waterloo for a debut performance. One minor detail: I had to use the piano at the venue since my instrument is stranded back in Malta. And this piano was probably last tuned in the last millennium, literally speaking of course! The piano and guitar together were way out of tune and thus I had no choice but sadly not play! Any disappointment was soon forgotten since the night ended up with a good Chinese meal!

Before my dear friend headed back to China for his mission there, he handed me a design task which I welcomed with great pleasure. More than the design itself, which was limited to formulating an architectural layout for 3 floors of offices and 1 floor of apartments within an existing block (which is terribly boringly shaped with the most unattractive elevation ever), I was yearning to do some real design amidst my focused Ph.D. work which does not entail any design work at all. So it was really a blessing to spend a couple of days sketching, designing and draughting plans for this project. A project which turned out to be well liked by the client and which hopefully kicks off, making it my first solo project overseas and in the Far East!

And on a similar note: some time last week, my wife and I attended this presentation by William "Bill" Baker, who was the mastermind behind the tallest building in the world, the Burj Dubai (or Khalifa as it is now referred to). The talk was well delivered and not boring at all, and it made me somehow yearning structural engineering and design much more than ever! If I could only design a highrise which is 10% of the Burj! What a dream! As Baker said, "A tall building is a dream realised in steel and concrete"...so true...

In the meantime, I was working hard on my Ph.D. work, with some heavy mathematical computation work being done...obviously I will not bore anyone with describing all the stuff I am doing, but let me just say that it is quite intensive: even computers are finding it hard to keep up with the work...I was handling thousands of numbers a day, compiling data, plotting charts and interpreting results of my models and equations...I simply cannot imagine what people did back in the days when all was done by hand...God bless computers!

I think this is all I can recall from the last couple of weeks...but I think I will have a bit more to say in the upcoming post...for it will include my first trip to Malta since the wedding two months ago! Oh yes, by the way, two months already! Watch out for this space - more coming up soon!

Taken by Storm

In the previous post I hinted out that I was about to leave and engage on some "mission" and hoped that it would be successful. If you thought that I was going on some secret NASA mission to the moon, then I am afraid I am about to disappoint you. Or if you (more realistically) expected me to write about some overtime work related to my PhD and which involved me going to the MoD for some classified data on terrorism, then I suggest that you close this and proceed to Google and find some other interesting article. The mission was simple: seeking out to meet one of my idols from the music scene - Storm Thorgerson, the artist who created virtually all of the album covers from Pink Floyd and many other rock legends, including Muse and Led Zeppelin.

Last week I got an email from one of my colleagues that there is going to be an exhibition of Storm's album covers in a London art gallery. The email included a link to the event's website and, upon browsing, I realised that Storm was actually going to be at the venue on the Sunday!! After meeting Rick Wright (Floyd pianist), this was the next best "personal" link to the greatest progressive rock band of all time! So after a massive Sunday lunch, I headed off to Liverpool Street and, after a quest for an art gallery tucked away in a minor side street (a building which, in itself was also worth visiting), I walked in to meet the brains (quite literally) behind covers in the like of The dark side of the moon, Wish you were here, A momentary lapse of reason, Delicate sounds of thunder, Division bell and Pulse: pure, classic Floyd.

The girl at the desk (unnecessarily) said that, "Storm the artist was in today" and, upon the subsequent question of my Italian friend, "Where is he?", I impulsively yelled, "There he is!", as if I was talking about an acquaintance who was expected to meet me at that place and time! I spotted the man, seated leisurely behind a modest white table, sporting a Syd Barrett T-shirt (obviously), walking stick on the side, wife on the other, dog playing at his feet and a simple half-eaten lunch. I had to satisfy my initial thrill by asking Storm to take a picture with him, a request which he gladly granted. It was too good to be in the presence of a man who had so closely collaborated with the Floyd on numerous occasions, probably in the company of ashtrays with a heap of burnt out cigarettes, intentioned to fuel brainstorming debates, scribbling and album cover sketches.

The purpose of the trip, i.e., the exhibition itself was then fulfilled. A tour of the gallery which was filled with signed prints and accompanying explanatory notes by Storm himself which were completely wonderful. The insight of the artist behind each album cover, written in fluent, plain English but underlying the thoughtful concepts explored and portrayed in no 'random' or 'simple' manner totally overwhelmed me. From the simplicity and boldness of the classic Dark side prism image to the more physically challenging Momentary lapse cover with its 700 beds on a beach and the surreal Black holes and revelations cover, the genius of Storm's design-oriented mind was confirmed.

It was then time to purchase an awesome book featuring Storm's works, with full colour images and his own explanation behind the ideas portrayed. And, naturally, it was mandatory to have the book signed by the artist. In his modest, friendly way, Storm wrote a message on the first page: "To Karl, not Walter; From Malta. not Gibraltar. Storm Thorgerson, 2010": a spontaneous, simple outburst of poetry which was highly personalised and away from the usual cliches of authors but yet another unrehearsed exhibition of his creative touch. The Malta reference was added after Storm's question as to which is my home country. I incorrectly assumed that he was not aware of what/where Malta is, but Storm is quite well versed in geography as I soon discovered...

Storm said he knew all about Malta, which I thought was bluff. But then when I happened to mention that Roger did a concert in Malta back in 2006, he asked, "Was it at Valletta?" which clearly was his implicit reply, "See, I even know the name of your capital city!" And Storm likened Malta to Gibraltar in his "poem" simply to further prove that he knew Malta was an ex-colony in the Mediterranean, just like Gibraltar! I shared the memories of the magical night when Roger played the whole of Dark side in his Malta concert and then played "Wish you were here" in the memory of "all those who are no longer with us", which clearly referred to Syd Barrett who had died earlier that night but which unfortunate event had not yet been made public (presumably, Roger knew of his demise). Storm did not know this fact and retaliated by stating that he had suggested to Floyd the title "Wish you were here"...a novel fact indeed to my ears.

All in all, it was a unique experience which concluded an awesome weekend and which provided me with enough momentum to face another week of hard work, which I anticipate to be packed with partial differential equations, Laplace transforms and wave equations...but let me not infect this post with such matters!

And, by the way, the image in this post is courtesy of Luca Modenese, who quite skilfully captured me talking away and heavily exhibiting my Mediterranean tendency to make generous use of hand gestures and, at the same time, displays Storm in his split second departure from the real world whilst formulating his 'poem'.

One phant-astic weekend!

It is almost surreal to even think that there has been over a week of consistent sunshine here in London. And what more, the Icelandic volcano and the huge cloud of ash due to its eruption meant that all flights in the north of Europe were cancelled, freeing the skies en route to Heathrow from the usual air traffic noise (I can usually see/hear a plane every 60-90 seconds and this is a result of severe data gathering exercises since I have been living in this area of London!), which meant that the cloudless, blue skies were even more immaculate than usual. Mind you, temperatures did not soar beyond 17 degrees and went down to as low as 2 degrees at night, but, all in all, the weather was pleasant. This was only one of a series of great events this week...as till post will outline!

To be honest, the week started off in a somewhat crappy way...the wife was away for the weekend and I suppose it does not require much imagination to understand how a husband feels when his wife of a few weeks disappears for a few days, but this unfortunate event was quickly cut short on the Tuesday (really it was early Wednesday morning when we got back from the airport) and things resumed happily as before. I really should not provide further detail as to how the re-union was then celebrated...I bet I did get you, you filthy reader...I was referring to the fact that she brought back my 1 TB hard drive from home (which I had accidentally left behind). The hard drive which contains all of my life: 300 GB of music, another 600 GB of movies and 100 GB of pictures and random stuff. That was all, really (tongue in cheek!)

Friday, finally, and thus the weekend started. The usual trip to the pub sparked off the weekend; this week, for old times' sake, a visit to the Devonshire Arms close to our place in Kensington. And, while sipping my gin-and-tonic there, I recalled the many Sunday roasts I consumed there, which meant that somewhere in my diary I have to include a Sunday lunch at the Dev. Maybe in a few weeks' time when my dear old roomie visits from China (for this one brave dude, this will be the 2nd trip from the far east to Europe in as many months - remarkable indeed). And then Friday evening was concluded in the most chilled of ways in our cosy bed in the company of How I met your mother - I love that show!

Saturday kicked off with a brief but blissful visit to Oxford/Regent Street. Usually, I simply hate Oxford Street. Not the street per se, but the crowds, the confusion, the noise and all that kind of stuff which takes away all the pleasure from shopping. But at 9am on a Saturday, the place is virtually vacant and I could stroll down the 10m (!!!!) wide pavements leisurely, admire some decent Neo-Classical architecture and do some window shopping (I promised myself I will not subside to actual shopping this time) as I headed down to Regent Street. The Apple Store, to be precise. The motive was simple: my iPod had suddenly died and needed a post mortem. This proved to be inconclusive, which meant that the enviable customer support of Apple provided me with another iPod, at no cost. Talk about 'the customer is always right'!! Well done, Apple!

A quick lunch and the activity for Saturday afternoon: a trip to Somerset House (the Courtald Gallery, actually) and an exhibition of previously unseen Michelangelo sketches, drawings, poems and love letters to his (gay) lover from the 1500s. An extraordinary man from an extraordinary period from the past, which made me realise that, in this day and age, there are simply no people of such calibre, who can master art, sculpture, poetry, architecture and be some passionate, all at once. The event was concluded by some water antics in the piazza within Somerset House, where people must have thought I was a lunatic unleashed for an hour who happily found satisfaction in playing within the water fountain/s there. Well, I am young at heart, you know!

And, finally, the highlight of the day: a night at the theatre. This was wholly sponsored by my dear office colleagues, who, as a wedding present, gave us 2 dress circle tickets for the Love never dies musical. I had been planning to go to this from the day it was announced that (Baron) Lloyd Webber embarked on writing a sequel for his Phantom of the opera musical, which I have seen twice and still think is one of the most enchanting pieces of music in that genre. And the sequel: I tend to be super-sceptical of sequels, particularly in the world of film, but this one was simply amazing. The narrative was not a copy of the Phantom but almost a stand-alone from the original (I think the Phantom is no longer a monster while Raoul has become a modern-day alcoholic), the music and the singing were superb (albeit a few bars' worth of reference to the original music) and the scenery and imagery in the theatre was phenomenal. At some points, it was almost watching a movie rather than a stage presentation, but, at the same time, not taking away the magic of live stage production.

As always, whenever I engage in anything related to music, I tend to end up into a melancholic state of mind. I begin to ponder and ask myself why on earth am I not doing music full-time: composing, arranging, conducting, playing. It gets me shivers even writing about this, let alone be in a theatre as a spectator, let alone be in the industry as a performer! Nonetheless, unless you are a prodigy and/or extremely lucky, it is hard in this day and age to live off an "arts" profession. I once read what novelist Kurt Vonnegut wrote, "If you really want to hurt your parents and you don't have the nerve to be a homosexual, the least you can do is go into the arts". Shameful indeed, on many levels. A, there is nothing wrong with being homosexual (although I am clearly not one, I respect gays and their sexual choices) and, B, I cannot understand why one would hurt his/her parents by being in the arts. Which explains why I deliberately pointed out earlier that Michelangelo was gay, since he was both a homosexual and in the arts: his parents must have both died of strokes or heart attacks. And who would not want to be in possession of at least a fraction of Michelangelo's genius?

OK, enough said for today, partly because this is getting too philosophical and, more importantly, I have to leave for another activity, the details of which I will disclose later on, provided that the activity turns out to be as successful as I do hope it is! Summary: it was quite an eventful weekend! And I hope that it concludes even better!

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!