Pooling ideas

12th October 2025

Welcome to another special bumper edition, which will live up to your whetted expectations after a two-week gap as long as they’re not too high.

The three days before we left were mainly taken up with the countdown to the holiday, but there were a couple of things that needed taking care of, both house related. As promised, the geologist’s man came on the Tuesday and took the latest readings, telling Stephen that he had some big ones. Whether that’s good or bad (and we fear the latter) or just a thing, we will find out in due course.

He was busy with his box of technological tricks when we came back from Pina and shopping, a little later than usual as we had also called in at the Comune when it opened to the public at 10 o’clock. We explained why we were there to Fiorenza (the nice lady who sorted our residency and our house number all that time ago, and who has been too long absent from these pages), who greeted us warmly and listened with consternation as Stephen explained why we were there.

She went and fetched the planning officer who was similarly concerned. He took out his mobile and called up the road man while we stood there, explaining to him that the road to the house of gli inglesi needed looking at, and the latter said he would try to check it out next Thursday, if it didn’t rain. At least it was a start, though, of course, being away we have no idea whether he has been or not, but we do know it wasn’t raining so there’s no excuse.

We made a start on the packing on Tuesday, but with my Thursday lesson rearranged for that evening, after selecting, with the advice of my resident stylist, what we thought I’d need I had to leave him to do the putting into suitcases part. The slight problem was that with the forecast being a bit doubtful (forecasting windy and a bit rainy) we thought we better take something a bit warmer just in case, causing me some qualms about the weight.

Stephen did a quick check and both cases were under the 20 kilo limit, with enough of a margin to accommodate the last minute additions such as toilet bags, but I always worry that they are going to weigh heavier at check in (they never do) and what if we buy lots of things to bring back (we didn’t) so on Wednesday I added another smaller case allowance to what we already had (Ryan Air being only too willing to let you do that at the last minute, anything that means more money). 

Wednesday was also the day Harry and Peggy started their holiday, and we took them (in the rain) to the kennels in the early evening. No lingering in the exercise area this time, but they both went happily into their enclosure, while I, as usual, had to be reassured that they would be fine (they were, very much so) and that I wasn’t a bad parent, abandoning them to fly off.

Despite my guilt, we left as planned the next morning about 8.30, allowing plenty of time in case of hold ups on the autostrada. There were none, and we arrived in very good time at Perugia regional airport, which had a bit of a Preston bus station vibe about it. Check in and security and all that stuff went smoothly, with the only minor dramas being a thirty-minute delay in take off and Stephen finding a man in his seat when we were boarding. It was, admittedly, an easy mistake to make, confusing the middle one on row 11 with the aisle seat on row 12. 

Arrival in Malta was uneventful, and we were checked in and unpacked well before five, in time to wander round the hotel and check out the facilities and the various restaurants on the complex. We plumped to have dinner at the Broadside Terrace, open air and Greek inspired, which had added interest given that it was a bit on the windy side. Not that it was cold, despite other diners taking advantage of the proffered blankets, but you did have to hold on tightly to your menu and napkin.

Notwithstanding the unfavourable forecast, the weather was very good, meaning our rainwear and cosy tops went unused. A couple of days were a bit windy, with our umbrella taking a flying leap across the sunbeds one morning, but there was no rain and when there was cloud it was high and intermittent. The last three or four days were very good indeed, with lovely blue skies and midday temperatures around the mid-20s, perfect sunbathing conditions for me. 

We were very pleased with our hotel, being situated on the promontory it was away from the main drag of St Julian, which was a strange mixture of tourist-oriented clubs and bars and modern complexes with shops selling high-end brands and urban chic cafes and restaurants. As it faced onto the sea, we were shielded from the extensive building going on behind us, where, according to the boarding round the site, an extremely large Hard Rock Hotel is going up… and up… and up. Our room was adequate – clean and comfortable but maybe in need of an update. Everything else was as we’d hoped: extensive pool areas with plenty of beds (though the man handing out towels could be a tad elusive), a very good breakfast and remarkably friendly staff.

So what did we do? Not very much, is the short answer (and the long one too) as the aim was to relax. We mainly sunbathed with the odd wander during the day, then out to dinner in the evening and in bed by ten or shortly after. Mission accomplished, but if you want a bit more information here is a brief daily summary. 

Day 2: Friday

A day by the pool then an early evening walk into St Julian to find some basic necessities (shaving cream, sun cream, ready mixed g&ts, crisps, you know the sort of thing). We enjoyed the latter two on the balcony before going out for pizza at Don Royale, the nearby pizza, pasta and grill restaurant, in an effort to recreate our usual Friday night experience.

Day 3: Saturday

A whole day by the pool (don’t judge) then dinner at Mananni, next door to Don Royale but with a bistro vibe and Maltese food, which was very good.

Day 4: Sunday

A spot of shopping in the morning (more comestibles) and to recce where the post office was to get stamps for a couple of postcards, because with no one actually physically writing any communications these days, postage stamps are the philatelic equivalent of spotting a panda in the wild. It was then more pool and back to Don Royale in the evening, this time for a chicken burger. 

Day 5: Monday

Pool day then out to dinner at Sole, a fish restaurant, in the evening – and thereby hangs a tale. The hotel, together with the two adjacent ones, offer a special deal called Dine Around. You buy three vouchers at a cost of €35 each which you then use for a three-course dinner at any of the ten restaurants on the complex. Some, like Mananni, you chose from the regular menu, others, like Sole being of a fine dining ilk, have a table d’hôte menu. Except it didn’t. The waiter looked very puzzled when we mentioned the vouchers, and was no less so when we showed them to him. “It’s ok. I’ll sort it out for you,” he said as he waved a hand over the a la carte selection.  Well, we chose three courses (fabulous food!), had a very agreeable bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, enjoyed the sophisticated ambience and understated attention of the staff, then paid full price for the meal, minus our €70. Were we dismayed? Not at all. We didn’t get the bargain we’d hoped for but as a dining experience it was worth every centesimo. 

Day 6: Tuesday

Out first thing to buy stamps at the post office, which was a very reassuring affair: two nice ladies behind the counter, shelves displaying stationery items for sale and no queue. We also stocked up on some more comestibles for our late afternoon merenda and balcony snacking at a larger supermarket, an intriguing mixture of Maltese, British and Italian brands, before picking up some more (and better) sun cream (half price, end of season) at the chic shopping mall. We obviously had to rest by the pool after that exertion before dinner back at Don Royale to try the pasta this time (most acceptable). 

Day 7: Wednesday

Another little jaunt, but at midday, when we took a walk to a nearby marina surrounded by luxury apartments and replete with desirable yachts, including one that, according to a Google search I happened to do, sold recently for five and a half million euro – well, it was second hand. We had lunch in a very nice restaurant overlooking the marina, where there was a slight kafuffle over a lost phone. The woman told the waitress that it had been stolen from the bathroom, but when the waitress phoned the number on her behalf, the person answering said it had been handed in after it was found on a bus. I hope they gave the waitress a generous tip, and an apology. In the evening we used our second voucher, successfully this time, at Caviar and Bull, the sister restaurant to Sole and more meat focused. The food was very good, again, but the general air, for all it wanted to look like a gentleman’s club, was somewhat brash, and it is the first place I’ve ever eaten where a passing waiter dropped a fork down my back.

Day 8: Thursday…    

… and time, we reckoned, we made a bit of an effort to venture further afield – not, as it turned out, one of our better decisions. We thought a late afternoon bus ride to Sliema for a wander round the port area before continuing to Valetta for another stroll and something to eat would be a good idea, but ending up stuck on a bus for two hours in a horrendous traffic jam in St Julian scuppered those plans. What caused it is a mystery to us, as is why we didn’t get off and walk, but it was a bit of a distance and you just fear that the moment you get off the traffic will keep moving. At least we had enough time to take in an ice cream, a look round Zara, a browse in a book shop (Me: “Do you have any Robert Harris?” Assistant: “I don’t think so. Is he any good?”) and a disappointment in the CBD shop which did have gummy bears but at over twice the price of those we used to get in Bologna. We then found a place for dinner before Stephen said, in view of our earlier experience, he’d treat us to a taxi home. Second bad idea. We ordered and paid at the booth by the rank then stood for forty minutes while others came and went by Uber until our taxi eventually turned up.

Day 9: Friday

It won’t be a surprise that we stuck close to the pool all day after our abortive venture, where it seemed, in the afternoon, that something was afoot as ground staff were moving the sun beds away from the upper pools. A letter from the management left in our room confirmed that the next day only the lower, lido pool, would be available as there was a wedding in the upper area. Fancy that, we thought. As for dinner, we used the last of our vouchers when we returned to Mananni, where we could choose what we wanted and no one attacked me with the table setting.

Day 10: Saturday

Our last day so of course we had to take things easy to make sure we were fit for the journey home. As expected, we were banished to the lower pool while the upper area was prepared for the late afternoon wedding breakfast, setting the tables and festooning the space with lights. As for us, after a final day of soaking up the rays, we had an earlyish dinner at Don Royale, settled our bill and did our packing ready for our early start.

Day 11: Sunday

Up at four to make our 7.25 flight, and everything went smoothly till twenty minutes away from the kennels when we had to take an unexpected detour due to a small village being closed to traffic for some festa or sagra or other. That’s ok, except being in the countryside where roads are at a premium the circuitous detour added fifteen minutes to the journey – though no real harm was done as our original ETA would have meant waiting for the kennel to open. All was fine with Harry and Peggy, and surprisingly Harry still had a voice left to bark with. Both seemed glad to be home and roaming the garden while we unloaded the car and checked the house, when we had another bit of a problem. The boiler had lost all its pressure, which of course has nothing to do with it still awaiting its September service. Stephen spent a happy ten- or fifteen-minutes grappling with it but eventually hot water was restored - just as well given the pile of clothes that is overflowing the linen basket. As they say, after the Lord Mayor’s show comes the cleaning up, and after the holiday comes the washing.