It is really not that surprising that nothing in Malta (not even the Leader of the Opposition) has been nominated in the current attempt to identify the Seven Wonders of today’s world. Of the ancient wonders, only the pyramids at Giza still stand; the rest have been wiped out by acts of God or man. The factor common to all of them is that they were tremendous feats of engineering for their time, and that is why we are still impressed by the remaining Wonder. If a pyramid were to be built today, nobody would pay any attention to it. It is because we know those pyramids were built using only manpower and the most basic technology that we are in awe. Who would care, otherwise? It’s the same with our own Stone Age temples. Their awe-inducing value lies only in the fact that we still don’t know how those stones were manoeuvred. Of course, there are also some people who get excited about the idea of pagan worship, the solstice and the sun god (or goddess), but I don’t know about that. It’s like getting excited about the local church service at 8 o’clock on Sunday morning. The span of time lends an aura of mystery to these things. Perhaps in 6,000 years time, the New Agers of the period will be getting a thrill out of the fact that a priest in long robes raised a chalice containing the blood of Christ, and offered the congregation a piece of Christ’s body to eat. Then they’ll say that our religion was cannibalistic.

Those ancient Wonders had another factor in common, too. They were fabled must-sees. Looking at the current nominations, I can see that factor at play again. Stonehenge is there, but our temples are not, which has caused offence to some patriots among us (I can’t see why they take these things so personally). Yet the fact remains that Stonehenge, besides being a remarkable feat of engineering, is also a fabled must-see, while our temples are not. Stonehenge, to use the terminology of modern marketing, is iconic. Both its image and its name are instantly recognisable to anyone living in the developed world, unless he or she is barely educated. You can’t say the same of Mnajdra, Ggantija, and Hagar Qim, and despite all kinds of branding advice and the best efforts of the Malta Tourism Authority, that’s the way it’s going to stay. Our temples will never become iconic. Stonehenge became iconic because of its connection with the myths about the druids, because it was, and still is, a mecca for hippies, and because its image has been flashed so many times across the public consciousness. Stonehenge is glamorous. Mnajdra is not. Being patriotic is one thing; you also have to be a realist.

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The Colosseum in Rome has been nominated, too, because it is also iconic and a fabled must-see. Out in the aridity of the Tunisian near-desert, there is a virtually identical amphitheatre (in fact, it was modelled on the Colosseum), which is in a much better state of preservation because it is not standing in the centre of a teeming city with Roman traffic speeding around it and centuries of tourists picking bits off it. Yet El Djem was not nominated for the list; the Colosseum was. El Djem is not iconic and never will be. It doesn’t play the required part in the international imagination. It is not symbolic of Rome as the Eiffel Tower (another nomination) is symbolic of Paris. The Colosseum has not been nominated for what it is, but for what it symbolises. El Djem is the same thing, but it does not have the same symbolic significance, not by a long chalk. Most people don’t even know about it.

The Seven Wonders of the Modern World are almost certainly going to be international symbols, and that is as it should be. That is why claims that Malta’s cathedrals and temples should have been nominated are just a little bit silly, really. The world is packed tight with manmade wonders, which is hardly surprising because human beings have been around for so long, and have developed quite astounding levels of civilisation and engineering ability. Many of these remain unknown to all but the seasoned and intrepid traveller. Others, like San Francisco’s fabled bridge and the Great Wall of China, we would recognise instantly if shown a picture of them, even if we have never seen the real thing at all – just as we would recognise Manhattan’s skyline.

Now those would have been the perfect example of a Wonder of the Modern World: the Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre. They had exactly what it takes – legendary and iconic status in the international imagination, instant recognisability factor, and breathtaking engineering.

If you ask me to define, very simply, what makes a Wonder of the World, I’ll tell you this. It’s something so amazing and so well-known that it provokes in us, when we see it for the first time, a sense of near-unreality and the reaction: “My God, I can’t believe I’m actually standing here and seeing it in real life.” There are many manmade structures, superb feats of engineering, which elicit this response – Stonehenge, the Colosseum, the Eiffel Tower, the San Francisco Bridge, the Empire State Building, the Great Wall of China, even the Sydney Opera House. They fight a very tight battle, though, with the natural wonders of the world, which provoke a response that is as intense, if not more so: Niagara Falls, Mont Blanc, the ice floes of the Arctic, the silence of the Sahara. The first lot of wonders remind us of humankind’s ability and significance. The natural wonders remind us that we are, ultimately, insignificant.

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Do you remember all that fussing and fighting in queues for gas cylinders, after the price of paraffin exploded late in 2004? Well, it hasn’t happened this year, which shows how useful planning and strategy can be sometimes. The Christmas before last, when the price of paraffin was pushed up to an exorbitant level, it appears that nobody who was in a position to think of these things took the time to predict that people would switch to an alternative form of fuel, and that the most obvious alternative was gas. The price of paraffin was kicked up through the ceiling without an eye to the obvious consequences: that there would be a mad rush for gas, with people demonstrating all kinds of atavistic behaviour, and virtually hitting each other over the head with empty cylinders.

This year, according to the figures just released by Enemalta, sales of gas cylinders are actually much, much higher than they were during all that fighting. December before last, 710 new cylinders were sold, but last month, the figure hit 3,250. Yet Enemalta coped, because new stocks of cylinders were brought in, in good time to cope with the rush of demand.

The government appears to have imagined that the surge in demand for gas would be the result of the electricity surcharge, which is also exorbitant. But then it was surprised to discover that, after the surcharge was imposed, consumption actually increased, by 2.4 per cent.

When, in the fuss about paraffin last year, I wrote that paraffin was commonly used for heating homes, and that it was preferred to gas and electricity (less cumbersome than the first and far more efficient than the second), I was told by certain know-alls that my assertion was ridiculous, and the facts to hand reveal that only a minuscule percentage of the population used paraffin for heating. Yes, I pointed out – but you shouldn’t calculate your percentage over the whole of the population, but over those who actually bother to heat their homes.

What percentage of householders who heat their homes, rather than shivering in them, use paraffin, and what percentage use gas and electricity? The fact remains that, unlike the know-alls in question, I am a long-time habitué of paraffin queues. Two years ago, I used to stand there with my 10 jerry-cans, patiently waiting in line and making conversation. Up to last year, I was still encountering other people there to buy paraffin. Now, since the start of the cold weather at the end of November, I have made perhaps 10 trips to my two regular vendors in Sliema and Mosta. Each time, I have been the only one there. Everybody else has switched to gas, which is much, much cheaper, but out of the question for me because of its terrible lack of practicality, and complete absence of aesthetics. I love my paraffin heaters for their efficiency, and I know that I will be unable to reconcile myself to the presence of a large and ugly gas cylinder imperfectly concealed in my living-room. I am not immune to the weirdness of the fact, though, that to run each paraffin heater now costs, each month, in terms of fuel, precisely the same amount as my petrol-guzzling car, which does rather more mileage than most. That certainly puts the ridiculous price of paraffin into perspective.