I do my utmost to hibernate in the hot summer months which seem to last forever. Who wants to be out gallivanting when the humidity is so high and the sun searing? Who wants to wear clothes when one can lounge at home with a light bit of gauze, like Mahatma Gandhi? And my hibernating has nothing to do with having a bad hair day. I never have a bad hair day because I decided long ago that I want to spend as little time (and money) as possible at the hairdresser's so have opted for a classical bun. I haven't changed my style for some 40 years now. 'Thank goodness we aren't all like you,' my daughters comment 'or the Maltese economy would not move'. I tell them not to be snide but no one obeys me not even my goldfish which is now dead, according to the pet shop from where I bought it, because I overfed it.
Hairdressers are big business these days just like plumbers, electricians, tilers and handymen. But even a bun is no guarantee of a tidy head of hair. In order to look sleek and not like a hedgehog on humid days I have a handful of creams, sprays and special concoctions which I apply in handfuls. 'It will be Nutella next,' says my eldest disapprovingly eyeing a jar in my kitchen. Well, I had to buy one because Nutella are celebrating their 50 years in existence: '50 anni di emozioni' is sprawled across the jar, and I wanted to celebrate with them.
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I have managed to dodge many an invitation this summer partly because I ran away from this incenstuous island to cooler climes. But an invitation from the British High Commissioner to a Garden Party in honour of Prince William was not to be missed. Years ago I had attended one at Buckingham Palace while I was on a two week course organized by the English Speaking Union at Jesus College, Oxford. I recall wearing a chiffon hat on that occasion and it was a most pleasant experience as the temperature hovered around 23C and made for humans and not elephants.
The British had an empire and know how to organize events properly. The British High Commission delivered what it had promised in the notes which came with the invitation - to make the gardens of Villa Degiorgio as cool as possible. Large white umbrellas and plenty of white chairs provided quite a bit of shade. Does one have to show one's ID card to quality for a chair, I asked some British guests who had come from Gozo for the occasion. Thankfully not, I was told as I sat on the last chair available under that umbrella. Thoughtfully white, red and blue fans were available for the ladies to use and take away. Someone passed on a red one and it helped I must say. So did the fact that I wore shoes with a low wedge. The invitation had warned us about wearing comfortable shoes. I don't possess any comfortable shoes but some are less uncomfortable than others. Men were not obliged to wear ties and jackets but many did, out of respect for the Duke and our hosts I am sure. One elegant man told me: 'Yes, it's hot in all this clobber but I try not to think about it.'
Villa Degiorgio looked at its best at 2.30pm on a Sunday afternoon. The colours of our sea and sky are truly vibrant and set the scene.
There was Union Jack bunting - the theme was red, white and blue all round. The bistro tables had Union Jack and Maltese flags and there were red runners on bars and red ties on bistro tables. I had my eye on some of the food provided which was plentiful. The heat does not mean that I lose my appetite unfortunately but I do try to drink water although fruit punch, prosecco and Pimms were available. I find anything alcoholic dehydrating in the summer months. I must have some of the cleanest kidneys in town because of the copious amounts of water I try to drink. But I did have my eye on the food. I had skipped lunch in order to be able to close the zip of my skirt more easily. Yes, I do have these myths and delusions running inside my head.
The smoked salmon and cream cheese triple decker sandwiches were delicious. Then there were the round cucumber and mint sandwiches - so British, so elegant. The ham and mustard volevants were tempting as were the cheese twists, but most of all the scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Cholestrol and statins did you say: I was not going to let them come between me and a scone. And the carrot cake and the Dundee cakes were delicious. I denied myself a lemon curd tartlet and a bakewell tart (only to regret it later on). My self-denial took place only because I could feel my zip beginning to slip under the strain of all those calories but I did finish the little feast off with a lemon sorbert. I have a feeling all this lovely food was not provided by outside catering but made in the kitchen of Mr and Mrs Luke's home.
Conversation was not brilliant but light. There were many stories about air-conditioners: those that had stopped suddenly; others which had not been serviced for some time and refused to go on providing any service until that particular job was done. Stories of remote controls which decided to stop functioning even when batteries were renewed. I could have written a booklet about air-conditioners and their misbehavior.
The party was the Duke of Cambridge's final engagement before he returned to the UK. It must have been a hectic two days not only for the British High Commissioner and Mrs Luke and their staff but also for the President, The Prime Minister and Mrs Muscat and members of the cabinet - and in this heat too. Mr Luke said that Prince William had to leave for the airport but that guests should stay on and go on enjoying the party. Quite a few stayed on.
The 50th anniversary independence celebrations have been successful. I hope all those involved have managed to take a couple of days off to regain their energies. I know one thing: I shall not be here for the 75th anniversary celebrations so, let me make the best of those clotted cream and raspberry jam scones while I can.