I’ve just given a shout of relief together with Conrad who designs First. It’s gone to the printers: subbing and proof-reading done, photos captioned, interviews written, read and re-read. We can relax until we open it on Sunday to see what venial and mortal sins we have committed; what sins of commission and omission. How many phone calls shall I get informing me that that was Mrs So and So and not Ms So and So. But until then this is the last page I am going to write until next week.
I intend collapsing over the weekend, visiting my sisters and sister-in-law and seeing a couple of friends. In the meantime let me tell you about Milica’s birthday party which we celebrated at Grabiel. I felt privileged to be invited to this St Dorothy’s ‘old girls’ celebratory dinner. No, Arlette Baldacchino was not there. I had rather hoped to meet her and have a little chat with her but she is probably infinitely younger than us so was not invited. The only other ‘outsider’ was Babette Chappell who walks like a ballerina and is a St Joseph girl. She still dances for one hour a day and walks everywhere. And the result is stunning. She also talks like a gentle philosopher. Well, her mother is French so that is not so surprising.
Milica arrived looking like a duchess – her hair swept up and wearing a lovely verdemar-light turquoise top, in her hands a three litre bottle of Prosecco which we soon demolished, sip by gentle sip. Mariella Zarb organised the successful evening and it went very well. Someone asked me afterwards, as I was telling them about Milica’s successful birthday celebration, whether the owner of Grabiel had come to sit at our table and talk to us. This boring rumour has been making the rounds of every dinner and cocktail party for months now and repeated ad nauseum. All I can say about that evening is that we had beautiful food beautifully served and that no-one pestered us. We had to tear ourselves away and then try to get home battling with the car-cading throng, as Italy had won some match or other. This was before the final world cup match. Past Fgura we had left the carcaders far behind to their own noisy selves.
Every other columnist has written about the concert on Manoel Island last Saturday but I still want to have my say. I thought it very brave of Renaissance Productions Ltd. whose directors are Dr Anton Tabone and Amabile Zammit, both of them Gozitan, to undertake the responsibility of bringing out the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. Engaging a star like Joseph Calleja is already a feat in itself but to organize a concert with such an excellent orchestra and its almost 60 members, a young brilliant conductor (he is a year younger than my eldest) and other stars like mezzo-soprano Elena Zaremba, baritone Vittorio Vitelli and Joseph’s gifted wife Tatiana Lisnic takes courage.
Of course the parking organisation could have been much better. The instructions on the newspaper were not quite clear. There was to be a shuttle service but from where exactly was not indicated. From Manoel Island bridge or from one of the carparks inside?
The four of us set off an hour early and we only live up the hill. Had we thought about it we should have got a taxi to drop us. There was the Gzira festa but Joseph Calleja could only slot in the concert on that day I am told. No doubt the other artists had other engagements as well. Many of those who attended probably did not start out early enough. We left the car almost at the Ferries and walked through to the parade ground where the concert was held. When it eventually began, we thought it was worth every effort. The Prelude to Bizet’s Carmen followed by the famous Habanera and Massenet’s Pourquoi me reveiller from Werther, the latter sung so movingly by Joseph Calleja.
Joseph again brilliant in Una furtive lacrima and his pregnant wife Tatiana with the ever-popular O mio babbino caro and Joseph once again in the famous Rigoletto aria La donna é mobile. How lucky we are.
I thought Elena Zaremba sounded her best in her duet with Tatiana Lisnic. The young Italian baritone not only had spirit and style but a beautiful voice. The last item on the programme when they all sang Bella Figlia dell’Amore from Rigoletto, was not really the end thank goodness.
After much clapping Joseph sang the evergreen O Sole Mio – such lovely spaghetti music. And we were utterly spoilt, when he dedicated Non Discordar di Me, which I drank with my mother’s milk as she often played it on the piano and hummed it in the bath – such moving music, such lovely words…La vita mia e legata te and so on. And as if that were not enough, the four of them with the excellent orchestra gave us the drinking song from Rigoletto which our Oreste also sings so beautifully.
Who was going to complain about the parking and the late start after such an evening. Midi merely lent them the premises. They had nothing to do with the organization of the concert as some seem to think. But even in the state that it is in, the floodlit ruins of Manoel Island looked beautiful. And when, unexpectedly the wonderful fireworks display, came on, it really was a feast for the eyes. Renaissance must be encouraged to bring more productions like this.
Even those of us who are not particularly interested in the world cup were bound to see on television the close up, brought into our living rooms time and again of the head-butt which the French soccer star Zizou gave to Marco Materazzi.
We are going to find that it is Zinedine Zidane who is saying the truth. Materazzi must have insulted him – and again and again. It is the repeated insults which upset Zizou so much that he had no option but to re-act and unfortunately for himself and France be given a red card which led to his having to stop playing. Materazzi is being scarce with the truth. He is ashamed of what he said and since the episode had so many repercussions he is now very embarrassed and wishes it will all go away. That is my considered contention. But it won’t go away of course and let us hope that FIFA’s investigation will bring the truth out.
I am writing as if I am interested in football which I am not, at all. But this episode interested even those who merely watched bits of matches because of the excitement of the world cup. Who, in Zizou’s shoes, would not have done the same, or perhaps even worse. There are people from time to time I would like to head-butt if I were of Zizou’s height. At four foot eleven I would only manage to hit them on their navel which is not quite as effective. But there are times when unthinking, uncaring, insensitive human beings make casual remarks, say half-truths, insult you without batting an eyelid but you keep silent to avoid ‘falling out’; stop yourself from hurling back insults and from telling them exactly what you think of them. Times when a head-butt would do the job. My sympathies are wholly with Zizou. He is still a hero. As to Materazzi, I look at him with disdain. Whatever he said, although he is denying it, was offensive and hurt. It will catch up with him.
When HSBC states that it is ‘The world’s local bank’ it means what it says. This has never been more clearly demonstrated than in the new design concept of HSBC Bank Malta p.l.c.’s credit and debit cards. The look of credit and debit cards in all countries where the Group operates, is now much more attractive. HSBC Bank Malta has become the first bank within the entire group to adopt new designs. So my boring pale grey Quickcash card now has a coloured scene of Fort of St Angelo.