Google Earth reveals that swimming pools are not so popular with people from the south of Malta in places like Hamrun, Qormi and Bormla. However, they are extremely popular with people from places like Attard, Balzan, and Naxxar. Even the people in Mellieha, despite being so close to a number of picturesque bays, are fond of pools. They must like swimming more than their southern neighbours. That is the only logical conclusion I can arrive at.

The people in High Ridge then! Oh, they love swimming - they must be water polo enthusiasts, or Olympic swimmers. In fact, there's a great chance that this is our first, unofficial and entirely incidental Olympic village. Let's hope that it produces athletes of enough calibre to finally enable us to get our first Gold at the Olympics. After all, Malta is the only European Union country to have never won an Olympic medal. (Cyprus has one silver medal.)

I firmly believe that the Maltese should bear the brunt of the costs. They should express gratitude to these affluent residents who have shown such remarkable dedication to this patriotic act of nationalistic altruism, and should support their endeavour wholeheartedly. A swimming pool must cost these poor fellows a fortune, what with the economic crisis and all. Trying to produce athletes for the Motherland in a time of austerity deserves the Ġieħ ir-Repubblika. While everyone else merely struggles with life, wasting their energy hunting for lower-price items to save a few cents, these brave, national heroes fork out money to support our sport sector, and work hard towards achieving the dream of having the red and white (with cross) flag up there on the Olympic pedestal.

Unless, of course, the people in the South prefer indoor pools. A plausible scenario, as indoor pools are usually more expensive and the South is known for its exuberance. Suffice to mention the case of Delimara Power Plant, where the inhabitants of Marsaxlokk had a chimney built, motivated by nothing more than caprice, which spoilt their marvellous landscape. Legend has it that it was a bet between fishermen, who are known to sail to Monaco in their luzzu and spend lavish weekends there, gambling on the numbers of the current tuna population.

(According to another legend, this weekly presence of Maltese in Monaco is how the latter got its flag colours.)

A whimsical, magical world of wonder awaits those wishing to delve deeper into the mystical realm of pools.

A swimming pool is a man-made container filled with water intended for swimming or recreation, mostly found in the north of Malta. A number of tools are used to ensure proper maintenance of pools. Pumps and mechanical filters ensure that the water is sanitised. Most swimming pool heat loss occurs at night, so covering a pool can reduce evaporation.

Unfortunately, as fascinating as all this must be, dear reader, these are not the sort of pools and tools I'd like to write to you about.

While High Ridge toils away at producing our very own Maltese swimming champion, I'd like to shift the attention to a phenomenon which has been plaguing the island since the demise of horse-drawn carriages. Shifting attention this way is always desirable. Shifting attention is good.

On the bus going to work, I frequently encounter heavy traffic. Sitting stationary and moving at a snail's pace enables me to conduct a survey of the cars around the vehicle, so close to it they almost look like an extension of the bus. Each day it's the same story: a four-passenger car carrying one person: the driver. No wonder there is always heavy traffic on our roads.

Car pooling here is virtually non-existent. Which is ironic: given the population density and the lack of space, not to mention the narrow streets, one would expect car pooling to be legally enforceable here. Instead, we are a country where the car population is actually larger than the population legally qualified to drive - though that shouldn't be a problem as the latest incident, involving an underage driver, clearly demonstrates.

I myself have a car, but choose to go to work by bus. Now my location perhaps permits this (not really though: the prime location status is quickly becoming a myth as the service deteriorates further), and I can understand the absolute necessity for some going to work by car (not really either, but let's just go with it, for the sake of the argument). Still, why people who, for some reason or other, are driven to use their personal car cannot find a system of car pooling is beyond me.

And here come the tools. These people, the car pooling fools who know nothing about the concept, are the tools. In the sense of dupes; people easily deceived. Only these tools are deceiving themselves into thinking that taking the car is more comfortable than sharing one. Be it a bus or a private vehicle, sharing means less traffic, which in turn means getting from A to B quicker. One would think this is obvious, but one need only try to get from point A to B in this country to realise it is not.

Everyone on this island is spoilt. We can't dream of sharing a car, we must have a huge saloon all to ourselves. We can't possibly dream of parking metres away from our destination. It's a wonder people don't complain of not having a parking space under their desks.

Just look at Mdina: a medieval silent city disturbed by the roars of car engines, spoilt by oil stains. It's ridiculous really. Hilarious in fact, and provides tourists with the opportunity for comic entertainment. You would never see this abroad. Some old towns are so well-preserved that one would be excused for thinking he has stepped through a time portal: these towns hide or disguise technological advancement and admit absolutely no motorized vehicles. Even the big cities usually have some old centre off limits for cars.

Once again, I recently hosted some foreign friends of mine. I was strolling through the streets of the medieval town with two Poles and a Hungarian, and they all remarked on the beauty of the walled city. They quickly added how more beautiful it would be without parked cars, which truly jar with the environment. I obviously agreed.

It is absolutely ridiculous, not to mention irresponsible, for a nation entrusted with such a historical gem in its care to ignore the aesthetic implications of the actions and policies affecting it, like allowing cars to enter and park within its walls. The aesthetical well-being of the town should be the topmost priority, but as usual priorities are turned on their head: we wouldn't want the person owning the Audi to walk all the way home after bingeing at some posh restaurant, now would we? The poor fellow has rights, you know.

Sure, the environment is important, and we must strive hard to protect our heritage and embellish our towns and so on and so forth, but hey, we must park two metres away from home, lest we would have to... walk (hopefully the word will evade the scrutinizing eye of the censors).

Mdina is tiny: parking outside would not really pose that much of a problem. And in any case, it should be part of the price to pay for having the luxury to live in the (previously) Silent City.

I digress when I really shouldn't: we have yet to solve the transportation issue that has tormented us for decades, and we have yet to understand the concept of sharing, so I cannot really expect us to employ taste and aesthetic judgement. Let's concentrate on employing common sense first.

The pools of cars on our streets and in our historic centres need tools - in fact, they only exist because tools make use of them.

Pooling requires no tools.