The Opera Gala which launched the Malta Summer Festival at Fort St Elmo was an evening of emotions without end. The Malta Philharmonic orchestra was under the baton of Oliver Diaz who gave a confident lead propelling the orchestra into newer heights. They were magnificent.

Fort St Elmo that great building made a handsome backdrop to the three of the five events which make up the Malta Summer Festival. The other two are being held in Gozo.  This is considered to be the most famous fort in Malta. It was built at the end of the peninsula upon which the capital city of Valletta was later constructed. In the Great Siege of 1565 Fort St Elmo received the full brunt of the initial Turkish assault. On 23 June 1565 the fort finally fell. After the war it appeared to be little more than a pile of rubble but was reconstructed on its original foundations. As one enters and walks across the massive ditch one can only imagine the many lives which were lost building it and then rebuilding it all.

In 1552 it was a Spanish engineer Pietro Prato who proposed the building of the Fort. Francesco Laparelli had no great opinion of it but incorporated it into his designs of Valletta.

What a magnificent setting it is especially when floodlit and with beautiful projections on its ancient walls.

The choice of programme helped towards making the evening such a success.

Once we had settled down the orchestra gave us the Overture from Verdi's Nabucco. We then had four famous arias from Puccini's La Bohėme sung by Grigòlo and the two sopranos, Marina Monzò (born in Valencia in 1994) and our own Nicola Said who naturally played a much smaller role than Marina Monzò but sang a duet with the tenor beautifully and in the end joined in the Brindisi.

The main exhibit that evening was no doubt the tenor Vittorio Grigòlo. He must have been in the front row when God was dishing out gifts. The looks, presence (in spite of his small frame) vocal intensity. No short man syndrome here. He swept us into his world and kept us wondering what he was going to do next. His singing is full of feelings, full of heart, such ardour. He is not only a great singer but a great communicator. The lingering on the words, the notes, the pauses...my heart missed a beat several times that evening and it is not thanks to him I did not get cardiac arrest but to modern medicine and pills which keep our hearts today, on the trot. He is able to sing daringly softly, as he did, to stunning effect.

The refrain at the back of my mind was that my husband had died at his age, just 45, a man full of energy and projects. More questions than answers.

Musicians may be born. Grigolo's uncle was a tenor, which is always a good start in life. However, hard work is indispensable. He said in an interview that it took him some 27 years to be able to sing the classic and heart-wrenching E Lucevan Le Stelle from Puccini's Tosca, like he does today, and he did so magnificently that evening.  He almost had me in tears and I am sure I wasn't the only one to be so moved.

Svani per sempre il sogno mio d'amore

L'ora e fuggita, e muoio disperato

Cavaradossi's farewell to life as he awaits execution. We have to thank the ubiquitous Luigi Illica and in this case Giuseppe Giacosa too, for the libretto.

Puccini is a genius of sentimentality. He depicts and expresses suffering and deprivation with such sweetness.

After he had written the last notes of Mimi's death scene in La Bohème, we are told, Puccini wrote: 'I had to get up and, standing in the middle of the study, alone in the silence of the night, I wept like a child. It was like seeing my own child die.'

Tubercolosis was so prevalent in those days. It was the romantic illness of that time. Verdi uses it with such poignancy in La Traviata. Now we are used to thinking that we are entitled to live a long life and are shocked at early deaths. But the routine and aches of middle and old age are unglamorous. Youth, love and death. So much more romantic than decrepit old age when you are more than likely to die of Covid, isolated in a hospital bed. No lover about holding your 'Gelida mannina' for comfort.

It seems that Covent Garden and The Met have dropped the tenor and are no longer using his services. He has been accused of sexual harassment but there is no court case. Who knows, it might have been a joke in bad taste perhaps which offended some delicate young lady and which her imagination turned into rape. It doesn't take much these days. All it takes is an accusation and one's reputation is in ruins. Gossip and false accusations are very destructive and something always sticks. I suffer from St Thomas's syndrome and am going to consider him innocent until he is proven guilty. It happens time and again. False accusations leading nowhere which are, years later, proved to be false. As far as I am concerned all is forgiven Vittorio.

This straightforward and most pleasant programme was the right occasion to introduce young audiences to opera in an easy and accessible format. However, a glance round and it seems to me that the audience seemed no less middleaged and elderly than opera and concert audiences always do. But just look at the crowds which attended MTV which to me is little less than medieval torture, listening to all that screaming at Ta'Qali.

My 42-year-old came along to St Elmo and loved every minute. She was brought up on a diet of mostly Piaf, Chopin and Liszt although I did play opera too, when they were home. But seeing it live is another matter and she is converted.

I don't want to dismiss MM in two sentences but I must as there is no space. But she, too, was magnificent. Beautiful to look at, dignified and to me, with an impeccable voice. I admired the way when the fireworks of the Festa Tal-Karmnu broke out for a few minutes, almost drowning her voice, she held her own and with great dignity too. She seemed to love every bar of what she sang.

I am not a music critic. I write about music and art in my diary not because I know much about either but because life without them would be grim. I love music and can never have enough of it but even then it has to be my kind of music. Wager's Ring cycle did you say? Perish the very thought. I cannot even get through Aida or Nabucco without starting to yawn.

I shed a tear in tribute to a beautiful concert once I got home. Nothing like Golden Oldies as far as I am concerned. That's real music to my ears.

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