The Armed Forces Band gave us a pleasurable evening once again at the Manoel Theatre. We heard some enjoyable pieces including an Abba medley. Abba may be passé for some but I still enjoy Dancing Queen, Mamma Mia and Fernando among others. I can’t say this is because they bring back memories of my younger days. Or that I have danced to them with someone special. I remember escaping with a friend to the Ladies at the Imperial Hotel where we used to go dancing in summer, avoiding some creep or another because even the thought of dancing with him depressed us. I am not the kind to thrive on memories even beautiful ones. Most make me feel sad for that which has been lost. But I like listening to Abba simply because I enjoy the tunes.

Of course the record companies go on exploiting our weakness for nostalgia. My obsessive compulsive relationship with Piaf’s music is a case in point. I still play my vinyl records at home and I love hers. Somehow they sound more authentic than CDs. I have enough Piaf songs on vinyl any sane person could possibly want, and quite a lot more that they wouldn’t. Then some years ago my brother was in Paris and brought me one of those definite collections, Golden, or ‘very best of’ a boxed set of four Piaf CDs…sheer heaven…which contained some chansons I had never heard before. I treasure it and play it most of the time and this plugged any possible gaps I may have had in my vinyl collection.

A couple of years later I was at HMV or Virgin in London and there was an Essential Piaf or something similarly named, featuring a few tracks I did not own and quite a few that I had already, three times over. I experienced a rare moment of common sense and pretended I did not see it but found myself backtracking and purchasing it. What the shrinks call delayed gratification is not for me when it comes to Piaf even if I keep on telling myself ‘but how many copies of Je Ne Regrette Rien and La Vie on Rose do I really need?’

And incidentally, my 1975 baby called me this morning to say that the film La Vie En Rose is now here and shall we go and see it together? I gave a scream of delight and we shall go next week.

What will my children do with my Piaf collection when I’m dead? Perhaps I should say in my will that like Tutankamun I want them buried with me. Maybe our darling Harry will like Piaf and want to keep them for himself when he is a big boy. Once you have been bitten by Piaf there is no going back. I shall play them for him next time he comes home. Far better than Puff the Magic Dragon or Sur Le Pont D’Avignon.

Anyway, to get back to the AFM concert.

We loved Ruben Zahra’s Halel played by the orchestra with none of those weird instruments in sight – no frustrated goat skins to reckon with. The programme notes said Halel is usually played on the zummara. I am sure that under the direction of maestro John Ivan Borg who was conducting elegantly, it sounded much nicer played by the band. It is an evocative piece of Maltese music which I hope they played in Strasbourg or will in the future.

At this point my sister-in-law was discreetly rummaging in her handbag and handed over a mastica sweet. She is never short of them and I tried to unwrap it gently.

We loved The Two Imps composed by the same man as the popular military march The Colonel Bogey.

At the interval most of us went out as the heat in the theatre was almost intolerable. We spoke to one of the musicians in smart white army uniform and he told us how unbearably hot it was on the stage. He also said that he was going to ‘play’ a rifle after the interval but would say no more.

Back at the theatre for the second half of the programme and soon Sergeant Anthony Lautier installed a 303 rifle and Herman Koenig’s Post Horn Galop was ‘played.’ It seems he blew into the rifle as one does into a trumpet.

The AFM band also perform all military duties like any other soldier as well as night duties. They also practice internal security, for example training against riots. And then there are the endless rehearsals which are a must for any musician. Our taxes are well spent on them.

I had already seen Hey Pedro at the concert in Verdala and they played it again. The part was played by Bombardier Lawrence Bonnici who I am told enlisted in the army 25 years ago and is soon to retire. In he came through the main door with poncho and huge Mexican hat. This was a fun piece which the men, and Pedro, seemed to enjoy giving us. There was much throwing of paper on stage and fun and games.

After the last piece was played we clapped hard hoping for an encore – Bridge on the River Kwai perhaps or Colonel Bogey - but the men put on their caps and played the National Anthem beautifully.

It was explained to me that when they play outdoors, their caps must always be worn but indoors they must be removed except if they give a full salute indoors in uniform they must put on their caps, but especially so for the National Anthem.

It was an enjoyable concert and the four of us went on for some tapas and drink at a place called Leggligin, down in Strada Santa Lucia, simply because we liked the name of this new bottega. Was Piccola Italia where we bought bags in our 20s in this very place or was it next door? We could not remember.

The Fado concert at the Manoel with Cristina Branco and the four marvellous musicians who accompanied her was something to see. It was organized by the Portugese Embassy with the help of the Instituto Camões – the Portugese Cultural Institute and the Manoel Theatre.

There was no dress code it seems but I found it somewhat disrespectful that some turned up in jeans and a T-shirt. My sister told me that in front of them some tourists wore short and hadn’t even bothered to put a comb through their hair. It is just good manners to dress properly to attend such an event. Malta is small and going back to the hotel or to one’s home for a change of clothes doesn’t take very long.

Cristina Branco won our hearts. She was superb. Most of us did not understand a word of what she was singing but she knew how to derive the appropriate dramatic nuances. Fado or Fate laments lost love and dashed expectations I was told. It was melancholy and minor key and it was not necessary to speak Portuguese or understand the words to get caught up in the passion. Cristina Branco is alive, she’s exciting and she seems to mean what she sings. She can blast out tone of a thrilling individual beauty. She has wit and humour as well and despite the heat – she had a small white fan on the piano which she used from time to time – she gave us such a wonderful concert. The Portugese ambassador gets many brownie points for bringing her to Malta. She matched song to feeling with intensity and suppleness, singing with emotional grandeur. She’s a great artist as are the musicians who played with her. I missed Fado on both my trips to Lisbon. My young one took me to many places. But instead of taking me to eat the famous Paséis de Belém which was an experience it is true why didn’t she take me to hear some Fado? I must ask her.

I made myself watch Bondiplus on Monday. Of course he is back and of course the pulling of ropes worked. And of course he moved his programme to a Monday for on Tuesdays now there is the very popular Giselle on Super One and a talk show by the much more popular Pierre Portelli on Net TV. I had nothing sweet to eat in my kitchen cupboards so brought out Harry’s rice cakes – really not very nice but at least low on calories. Mr Bondi must be going through his menopause or whatever it is they call the male equivalent. Really, that spotted tie and matching braces – are we going to be subjected to them in different shades every Monday? They are reminiscent of something out of Disneyland and yes, as everyone said Larry King of course.

Dr Gonzi campaigns in poetry but governs in prose. This came out clearly in his debate with Dr Sant, and there is no question that the latter redeemed himself after his show at Birzebbugia. He is best being honest and sincere. He is no good at cracking jokes and we like him best that way. Mr Bondi made hay of course and brought out the clip where Dr Sant does the Gonnnnnnzi ‘joke’. Had he been an honest man Lou would have also brought out the clip in which his cousin Austin is so disrespectful and does the ‘Sant will be eaten by a whale and will not survive like Jonas’ video. But we know whose side Mr Bondi is on.

Dr Gonzi performed complicated manoeuvres to remain in possession of the floor – sometimes sounding like a tinpot dictator and was constantly interrupting. He tried to explain away, unsuccessfully the Transparency report which says that we have become more corrupt as an island. His talk about some footnote or another did not convince. A friend messaged: Ghal Gonzi, xejn mu xejn. Indeed. He seems to take the misdemeanours of his cabinet in his stride while Lou like one of the witches in Macbeth stirred the pot.

Dr Gonzi’s idea of education seems to be very limited. If parents are paying VAT on books including an Atlas, as Dr Sant pointed out, then there is VAT on education. And as far as we are concerned a school tie and a school uniform come under education and if there is VAT on them then, without a shadow of a doubt, there is VAT on education.

And columnists who keep on pronouncing dire warnings as to the consequences of electing the Labour Party especially with Dr Sant at its head, are wasting their time. I’ll try to remember them in my prayers and hope they will see the light. But many of these columnists have so many vested interests that they want no one else but the Nationalists to be forever in power. What next? Don’t answer that.