"Have you thought much about the future? More specifically have you planned your funeral? Of course may we all live as long as the 92-year-old who was Malta's first death with Covid -19 but the chances are that most us won't. With all this talk of death and with so many dying like flies, abroad, coffins on almost every channel, I cannot escape thoughts of death.  These poor souls, leaving this earth alone, their family not able to say their last goodbyes.  Forget about their favourite music being played at their funeral or articulate eulogies about their life during mass. These awful facts sadden the worst of us.

I hope to escape Corona and also death for a few more good years. I have already made arrangements with the One Above. I don't want to be a burden on anyone. Two days in bed in my prettiest nightie, with none of the wrinkled bits I am not too fond of covered; half a box of chocolates on my night table waiting to be finished off and my daughters holding each of my hands, last words of advice and off to the Great Casino in the sky to at last settle, once and for all, this business of Heaven and Hell.

I don't intend making a comeback.

So these thoughts cascade, like autumn leaves, in my mind as I walk around the roof like a mesmerized cow trying to cover at least 7000 steps. I now make an effort to go in the morning to do half the steps. Then again in the second half of the day.  I am still far from achieving that magical number, 10,000 steps. I keep on stopping to look at my phone to check.  But a watched kettle never boils, as they say.

It is not very inspiring looking at other roofs, it hasn't been in the last few days anyway.  No interesting red sheets as there was last week, reminders of a Barbara Cartland romance. Not that I ever bought her books but many people do. I remember reading that at some posh dinner party she leaned towards the chap on her right, some bigwig, shamelessly flirting, at the age of almost 90, and flapping her false eyelashes when one of them fell into his soup.

There has been only the occasional bit of action on the roof this week.  One woman waved frantically at me from a nearby block of flats and shouted Hello! I waved frantically back but said nothing.

Someone was walking along the roof of St Patrick's, hands in pockets, possibly meditating but it didn't last long.

Another man, fat - and nothing delights me more than seeing someone fatter than me -  was baring his unattractive torso.  He dawdled up and down a couple of times then a fat woman came and they both disappeared, I suspect to have a huge tea, oozing with calories.

Well, someone should tell him that even if he does two laps a day, every day of the week, it will take much more to make up for those extra calories which he evidently consumes on a regular basis.

I persisted and managed, not without difficulty, to achieve 8000 steps yesterday. I try to convince myself that walking alone on a roof isn't boring. The children offered head phones and music but I resisted. I find myself hankering for the old life, if only for a few days, a life with some movement in it; a life with family and friends.

I tell my daughters, in our group chat, that I had lost a kilo in a few days. They laugh but are encouraging. "Isa Ma, if you persist you may become snella again."  And when was I ever snella?

Two tall and slim girls appear on a roof opposite almost everyday. They stretch and use a dumbbell and exercise on a roof which has no wall. We wave to each other as I am watering the plants. I am terrified that if I call out and warn them of the dangers they might lose their balance and fall off some three storeys.

Whereas our rallying cry used to be 'See you at the beach!' Now it is 'See you on the roof!' Well, that's to my sister No 2 who lives in the same block. Occasionally a neighbour comes up to hang her washing and we exchange news and views for a few minutes. Distancing ourselves has become second nature.   

I have asked a handful of artists to send me a visual of a work of art inspired by Corona. They are responding and I am publishing them on this page, every week. I am hoping that eventually we could hold an exhibition of all the works. But step by step.

Last week we had Richard England's excellent work. This week there is another one of his. So appropriate. So inspiring.

This week too,  I am publishing Alexia Coppini's  work. She is in Sicily for the time being and send me the following:

"Partly by plan and partly by fate, my husband and I ended up in the Sicilian countryside. The choice was to return to Malta or stay and appreciate the green open spaces.

I immediately thought of my students, both past and present and decided to offer free tutorials to them. I paint every day for around 80 students via a WhatsApp group I've created. 

I prolifically paint a wide variety of subjects such as my seascapes, the rural inspiration of the Sicilian countryside and my darling Estella who has observed the new rules and regulations to a tee.

I find the reaction from the children so inspiring and as children all over the world have joined my WhatsApp group, it rings throughout the night as they return their lessons! I have never been busier!

As uncertain as these days are, it is so important to remain positive. My prayer for the future is one of greater unity where the planet is respected and the greed that seems to have driven society, takes a step backwards.

Stay safe and be inspired!"

Easter Sunday lunch is going to be a 'Meals on Wheels' affair but it isn't what you think it is.

A VERY HAPPY EASTER TO ALL OUR READERS.

“The Son of Man is dead
for three days he lay in the tomb
then on the third day
as the sun rose His
body stirred and
He awoke to announce to the world
I AM THE RESURRECTION.”
           

RICHARD ENGLAND