If I ever had any doubts just how much the public holds Julie and Ludwig in their affections, these were quickly dispelled when I met them at Cocopazzo.

To say that a neighbouring table full of women out to lunch swamped them with their good wishes is an understatement. In Maltese we say jiggustawhom (they think they’re cute) and I think this is basically at the essence of the couple’s soaring popularity. That, and the fact that they are both unfailingly polite, patient and very, very good at handling people. One after another they signed posters and postcards to the delight of the ladies.

“My grandchildren know your song by heart,” one woman said and Ludwig and Julie smile their thanks.

Another person who was very pleased by the presence of the couple was Paul, the owner of the restaurant who was flattered that his place had been chosen once again for this series. He presented Julie with a rose, and gave Ludwig a Valletta FC football shawl (“when you’re on stage you have to say you’re from Valletta, not from Malta!” Paul tells him jokingly). Ludwig, a Valletta boy through and through, good-naturedly agrees.

Paul has also gone out of his way with the food. Two enormous plates of bruschetta and antipasto (octopus, cheeses, salami, olives, galletti) have us nibbling away immediately and wondering how we will have room for the main course.

The cook John, I learn, happens to be Ludwig’s cousin which is another reason for choosing this place.

In November of last year, I had interviewed Julie over lunch, so we agreed that this interview would be mainly about Ludwig. We couldn’t help but recollect how much has changed since then. Their relationship for a start, which was on hold at the time, is now back on course.

The other big change is that the two of them will be representing Malta at the Mother of all Festivals, the Eurovision, which they both agree is of great personal satisfaction.

I ask how they feel when they see the reaction of the Maltese public.

“Psychologically, the public is helping us a great deal. They phone us, they stop us in the street, they hug and kiss us, it’s incredible. They themselves don’t even realise how much they’re helping us mentally,” Ludwig says. “It relaxes you to know that people are behind you.”

Of course, they are fully aware that Malta’s support is not what they need, but the votes of the other countries.

“At the end of the day, the Eurovision is a lottery. Rather than building up a lot of expectations, you have to go there believing in the song. Think only about those crucial three minutes, and that’s it. We’ve worked hard to be as focused as possibly but ultimately, viewers are either going to take a liking to you or not.”

They have already started their whirlwind lobbying tour of other countries, which has become obligatory for Eurovision hopefuls: Lithuania, Latvia, Macedonia, Portugal, Serbia. I met them just before they took off again for London.

On these travels, the couple points out, the way you handle the press is vital. “Charisma, being well-mannered, being informed about your country’s history, these are all important when speaking to foreign journalists.”

What differences have you seen between the local and foreign press?

“Foreign journalists tend to ask more questions, and try to catch you out to see how much you know about your country. One journalist was asking about the language and our surnames, so you really have to have a certain standard of education. They know what’s happened in past festivals and how experienced you are – for example, if you are still a newcomer, you can bet that that they will tear you to pieces (ikissruk),” Ludwig says in his slow, easygoing voice.

Their personal lives have also come under the microscope, he adds.

“They can be cheeky though. One guy said, ‘Julie, why don’t you sing on your own? Don’t you think you’d be better off?’ You have to be careful how to answer.”

Indeed, the couple has become such an inseparable duo that they have almost become one name ‘julieandludwig’.

“It doesn’t bother us at all. We had separate careers before this – I was involved in musical theatre, whereas Julie was more into festivals. This was only the second time that we took part in the Song for Europe as a couple. When we saw how much people liked us as a duo, and when we won L-Ghanja tal-Poplu, we realised we had something which worked.”

They are aware that part of their public appeal is that they are romantically involved; something which genuinely touches the hearts of young and old alike.

I can still hear the ladies behind me saying ‘kemm huma helwin!’ (they are so sweet).

But now, something about Ludwig.

He grew up living with his parents at his grandmother’s house, surrounded by relatives who all lived in the same street. He makes it sound like a lively, friendly neighbourhood where everyone was always going to each other’s houses, calling out from one balcony to another. As a little boy he would be sent on errands to an aunt’s house to borrow this or the other.

In fact, you can tell from the way he speaks and his idiosyncratic expressions (the favourite of which is ‘ta barra minn hawn’) that Ludwig spent a lot of time with older people.

Eventually, they moved to Mosta, but Ludwig still used to visit in-Nanna tal-Belt three times a week. He played waterpolo for the home team, was an altar boy here and most of his friends all come from Valletta.

“We call it a blind love for the capital City,” is how he puts it, using a phrase I’ve heard before, “ghall-grazzja t’Alla mill-Belt” (thank God I’m from Valletta).

Named Ludwig after a German friend of the family, he was the first grandchild to be born, and he was a boy – in Valletta, that used to mean quite a lot.

I get the impression he was rather pampered.

It was his great-uncle Fr Albert Borg who taught him the piano. When Archbishop Mercieca suggested that Fr Borg should create an altar boys’ choir for St John’s Co-Cathedral, seven-year-old Ludwig was asked to join together with his cousins Paul Borg Bonaci (who now fronts the band Fakawi) and Conrad Briffa (also a musician).

Ludwig remembers it as a hilarious time primarily because of Paul, who even as a child was a born comedian.

They were altos - before their voices broke that is. Puberty, I find out, is a ‘risky’ age for boy singers when they can do serious, permanent damage to their vocal chords if they force their voice while it is still changing.

“You are supposed to stop singing between the ages 11 and 15, depending on when you develop. So I stopped until I was 16, when I was given a few opportunities to sing backing vocals, but then I stopped again because of University. At 20, I started again when I composed a song with Gunther Chetcuti for a youth festival and I came third. After that, I began taking part in musicals.”

It was due to pure chance that Ludwig discovered his aptitude for classical singing. Mro Joe Brown was producing Diana - Queen of Hearts, and when the leads he had in mind dropped out, he turned to Ludwig. He told the singer to try singing with a tenor voice, and as Ludwig continued climbing the scales, Joe told him, ‘did you know you have a Cb molle?’. At the time I didn’t know what it was, but I learned it was a particular note, a B Flat which only tenors can reach”.

Ludwig then went to mezzo soprano Beatrix Brockdorff who taught him technique: how to use his diaphragm, how to hold notes, even telling him what he should eat.

Like every singer, he eventually had to make a choice on which musical path to take, and he chose semi-classical. Just at about the same time, Julie too was making her choices. In fact, they met through music as backing vocalists, at a time when they were both wary as they had each just emerged from other relationships.

“We later learned we had broken up with the other people on the same date,” adds Julie.

After much to-ing and fro-ing, finally, on the night that Times Three won the Song for Europe, Julie and Ludwig started going out together.

“You know how romantic it was? We went to see Psycho!” she scoffs.

Ludwig is a romantic however - he shows me the ticket stub from that film which he still keeps in his wallet.

When did you know that this relationship was meant to be?

“Well, when we broke up last year for three months, I thought that’s it, because I’ve always believed that if you break up once, it’s over. But having a break gives you the chance to meet other people and you have a basis for comparison. Then we sat down and talked openly about what was bothering us and we realised that we both wanted to get back together.”

Like most couples when they argue, it is deciding who is right and who is wrong which is the hardest part.

“Plus I hate arguing,” Ludwig says wearily. “I keep quiet, and listen while Julie lets it all out and shouts. Then I tell her, ‘OK, are you finished? Have you calmed down?’. Then she is off again.”

Eh, when will men realise that sometimes women want someone who will argue back?

I take it you’re the calm one?

“Calm, yes,” he says calmly.

On the other hand, on stage, it’s Julie who has the best nerves and she calms Ludwig down.

This time around, they have also learned to make time for each other. Paradoxically, although they spend a lot of time together because of work, they need to find time to just ‘be together’ as a couple when they can talk about other things.

“We really want it to work. Then eventually, after all this stuff is over, we will take the next step because we’ve been going out together for so long now, five years, that it’s time now. We want to be settled.”

For our main course, Paul presents us with a splotta “fresh from the sea” he assures us.

When he’s not singing, Ludwig is a Personal and Social Development (PSD) teacher at primary level, something he has always wanted to do because he absolutely loves children. Surprisingly, he graduated in religion studies, and when he sees my expression, he nods his head, used to this reaction by now.

Originally he wished to read for a degree in Economics, in order to teach the subject, but on applying, he learned that this subject wasn’t available within the Education faculty.

On looking into his options, he was advised that there was a shortage of religion teachers, so he chose theology.

“I thought I would spend four years having a buzz at university, because religion is ‘easy’, but instead I got myself into a real fix.”

(Here I really have to use his actual expression, “irrangajt ruhi ghall-festi kmandati”.)

Ludwig describes how he used to go home every day with a headache from studying philosophy and theology. He also describes the raised eyebrows he and his friend were met with when they first entered the classroom full of men studying for the priesthood, middle-aged women and people who taught catechism (tal-muzew).

“My friend has a tattoo bangle on his arm, and at the time I had an earring, my hair was spiky, I wore torn jeans. Fr Deguara who was giving the lecture took one look at us and said, ‘are you two in the wrong course?’”

He laughs at the memory.

Ludwig’s passion for teaching and his genuine love of ‘his kids’ is still there. At the moment he is on exemption from duty and he speaks of how much he misses them.

As we talk about his experiences as a teacher, I can see how dedicated Ludwig is.

“At the moment children have been a bit brainwashed by the 179 child helpline. Unfortunately, while there are genuine cases of child abuse, some children are using it to phone when their mother yells at them for example. So what we need is better education on when to use the helpline because the poor volunteers are being swamped by such calls.”

The real cases are a cause of much distress for teachers who are obliged to report suspected abuse.

“I really cannot understand how parents can hurt their own children. It’s something unacceptable. When your own parents are against you...”

Not surprisingly, Ludwig is popular with the children, not only because he is ‘famous’, but because he is so laid-back. He goes to work as he is dressed today, in casual jeans, trainers and usually a cartoon T-shirt. There is no ‘Sir’ for him, they simply call him Ludwig.

“For children to open up and talk about their problems, they have to feel relaxed. If they see you in a suit and tie, it’s too rigid, they can’t feel close to you. Sometimes their innocence is adorable. One day I was talking to them about the difference between a ‘good kiss’ and a ‘bad kiss’. One girl told me, ‘my uncle gives me a bad kiss’ and I thought, ‘oh oh’. But when I spoke to her privately and asked her why, she said ‘because he doesn’t wash, he has a bad smell!’ So you have to really be careful sometimes.”

We talk again about the upcoming Eurovision festival which starts with the qualifying round on 12 May, less than two weeks away. The song will remain basically the same, but they will be leaving out that little wiggle in their dance routine about which they were teased. They take things like that in their stride.

“We saw the sketch about us on Zinners and we thought it was hilarious,” says Julie.

They even laugh about pictures of a ‘naked’ Julie posted on a website (“except the size of my bust was about three times bigger than in reality,” she laughs).

What does bother you?

“The vicious rumours,” says Ludwig. “Our parents have had to learn to deal with the publicity as well; they had to accept that strangers will stop them in the street to talk about us, but when people spread gossip that’s another thing. Once someone went to tell my mother that I was gay. Now she is very devout and traditional; she’s always praying for me when I go abroad and places Holy Pictures in my suitcase, so you can imagine. It took her three days to tell me and I was so angry, but she wouldn’t tell me who told her. If people want to tell me something to my face, that’s fine, go ahead. Friends like Renato, Claudette Pace, Mary Rose Mallia, all prepared me for the backlash of popularity. But when they attack our parents, that’s not fair. During the Referendum and the elections we had all sorts of anonymous phone calls. One time they even insulted Julie because her mother is dead.”

I find this so shocking, I cannot think of anything to say.

“We think we are living in a democratic country, but the mentality is not democratic at all,” Julie says quietly.

Of course, there are other things which are upsetting, including some of the ugly things which occasionally happen behind-the-scenes of the Song for Europe.

“Some singers wanted to see the actual televoting results because they didn’t want to believe them. Thankfully, everything was recorded on paper so it could be checked and there was nothing to hide, but we wonder why people are so insistent...was there fiddling in the past? The worst thing was after we won when we found all our clothes, make up and personal belongs had been thrown on the floor and trampled on. Unfortunately, some people lose their head because of this competition.”