I’m writing this while a gale is blowing, with the rain coming down in its proverbial canine and feline proportions. I’m not a great lover of rain or wind and I can’t say I ever get too raptured by seeing the YouTube top 100 videos of Fido and his bosom friend Pussy.
Actually I lie. I do love dogs - even owned one once. I also acceded to my wife’s and children’s wish to have a cat, which one day magically multiplied to five cats. And I did love them all. But I still hated the fluff on all my black trousers which seemed I had just had a tumble in a haystack. Not that I know what a haystack looks like. And the only tumble I would get is to look for the proverbial pin not to lie in amorous rapture. The hay would make me sneeze and the smell would make me puke.
As even the least perspicacious of you would have guessed I’m a sort of city boy - from the nether parts of stylish Sliema - so I never had too much connection with anything farming or nature.
Coupled with all this I also had an allergy to anything manual or mechanical. I could never build anything like those planes and ships we were given as presents when we were young. My brother was a genius at building cars, cranes and drawbridges with Meccano. Like most things of my childhood Meccano disappeared, its place taken no doubt by a tablet of sorts. I dreaded the nuts and bolts and pieces of metal that had to be screwed together to build with Meccano. But I loved it when the elder sibling built anything to my specifications.
Sometimes I even asked for tractors and barns. As far as I remember he whizzed up the machines in no time but never provided the hay or animals, so I remained rather cut off from anything truly agricultural.
What scares me is this. If the sea and wind and rain keep pelting us with their new found fervour we could all go into a cold spell. Lately it has been opined that we are on the brink of entering a mini ice-age. Never sure whom to believe - is it global warming or global freezing?
I’m too confused to even understand. I forgot to admit another of my mental blocks - anything sounding or resembling anything scientific is pure dross to me. Or to admit something further - I never understand anything connected to science. Even Greek or double-Dutch is easier on my brain. By the way - what the hell is double-Dutch?
Anyway I remember once reading that Malta and the rest of the south of Europe was going to be hotter than ever and that the temperatures in Britain and thereabouts were going to be like ours now. So off to sunny Blighty for a balmy holiday in the sun we all will go while Malta becomes too hot to handle. Further south it seems will be just a burning bush.
Then the other prediction is that the ice-caps will melt and we will have too much sea to handle and the sea level will rise. So maybe that is why so many high-rises are rising in Malta. Top floor will give us a good view and maybe a hope to survive while the waves do their lapping dance.
All these cataclysmic prophecies make me wonder how I will survive these grim times. My DIY prowess is a rung lower than the bottom. I can’t start a fire even with matches let alone with two sticks. I was so bad at knots, opening bottles and erecting tents that the scout-master resigned when my parents forced me to join Baden Powell’s cubs. Anyway if I’m stuck on the top floor of a high-rise building what can I do with a tent or a fire if I lack any animals to cook, water to drink or TV to bore me?
One of my daughters once announced to me that our only hope is to go to far-off planets and set up a community there. Then a vacancy appeared for a one-way trip to Mars. There’s one Maltese entrepreneur who has applied - because, he said, he loves the challenge and the fact that you have to build your own stuff.
If that is the future then my future is even bleaker than I thought old age would be. When I hop onto a spacecraft to leave this scorched land I want to find it all fully equipped with computers, spas, libraries and beautiful hotels. But then I never trusted the Martians so maybe they already have it all civilised and organised for us.
Victor Calleja has been involved in publishing, marketing, and anything concerning the written word, for over thirty years. He is now a part-time but very opinionated journalist who delves deeply into a number of subjects.