7am: Woken up by drilling noise coming from number 45 building site (thought that excavation is not allowed in tourist areas during the summer months)

7.15am: Since a lie-in not possible, decide to have an early swim. Stepping out of the front door, get splashed by a passing car driving through the waterlogged potholes in front of the Water Distillery Plant (good job I had my swimming trunks on!). According to the authorities we approached, “it’s only rain water” – since when is rainwater milky and smells of sewage?

7.30am: Walk down the stairs to the jetty and am welcomed by the pungent smell of urine. Looking at the seawater, which is full of floating paper napkins, plastic cups, and leftover food swept into the water by the party boats moored further on, I decide to walk towards Tigné Point in the hope that the debris has not arrived there yet. While passing the five-star hotel, I slip and nearly fall. One of its employees is cleaning the pool deck with a water hose spraying everything its guests left behind, via the jetty into the sea. No wonder the place is filthy and slippery (better watch my step in future!).

7.45am: Arrive at Tigné Point Beach, which must be the neighbourhood’s favourite canine playground as it is littered with dog pooh. Have a dip nevertheless and return home via the boulevard.

8.15am: Breakfast on balcony, clean the table and am horrified to find cloth turning greyish black caused by the “clean air” we breathe.

9am: While reading the newspaper, a noisy concrete mixer tries to reverse at the busy corner into Censu Xerri Street (holding up a lot of hooting cars). The lorry has barely driven off when a second one arrives and parks on the corner’s edge waiting for the return of the first one, after it has been unloaded. This goes on until 11.45am. Fed up with the unbearable noise and exhaust fumes, I decide to confront the attendant. Am told in no uncertain terms to mind my own business as the lorries have a permit since they cannot turn further up in the street.

Noon: Having firmly been put in my place, I flee from our noisy and polluted balcony.

3.15pm: Return for an afternoon snooze and have barely dozed off when, would you believe it, no less than 15 mini buses with a further six coaches arrive to collect foreign students. The buses are either early or the students late because 45 minutes later the students have still not yet boarded. While parked/blocking the whole street, the drivers are having a break under the few shady trees on the boulevard, leaving their noisy engines and air-cons running. Deafened and suffocated by the diesel fumes spewed out by the 21 vehicles, I went to have a word with the drivers. The dialogue went as follows:

Me: “Please switch your engines off, you are suffocating me.”

Drivers: “Who the h... are you?”

Me: “A desperate resident trying to enjoy some peace and quiet.”

Drivers: “Then you should not have come to Malta’s busiest place.”

Me: “Thanks, but you are not helping.”

Drivers: “Students have a right to a cool bus.”

Me: “What if everyone leaves their car engines running while parked, with the doors open?”

Drivers: An explicit (I’d better not quote).

Me, in an effort to persuade them by my reasoning: “Why do you stand here for over half-an-hour anyway?”

Drivers: “ Have nowhere else to park and students never arrive on time anyway.”

Me: “Planes don’t wait for late arrivals, so why do you?”

Drivers:” F... off, you wisehead”

5pm: Need a drink to calm my nerves. Close the balcony door to retreat inside for the rest of the evening (which is better for my blood pressure) before the crooner at the 5-star hotel starts singing later on.

11.30 pm – midnight: Am fast asleep; suddenly I have the feeling that a discotheque has set up business next to my bed, only to find that two party boats overcrowded with singing and dancing students passes. Wish I were a student, with all my wishes catered for.

12.15am: Take a sleeping pill and dream of a far away tranquil and peaceful place.

Wilfred Tops