Frankly, I am not excited or impressed by either Mr Cool, Mr Bounty, Mr Green and especially the right-wing party; nor by the flag-waving multitudes and the endless blogging, and no amount of undermining is going to influence me.
I think the electorate have one of the most difficult choices to make this time round. But the world will not end if the party they vote for does not win.
I have been trying to get behind the hype of what both parties are promising. Somehow, I am not convinced that Dr Gonzi will deal with the arrogance, corruption and nepotism that have marred his party’s reputation and although he has not done badly as prime minister, the bounty he is promising seems unachievable if he wants a balanced budget.
On the other hand, although Dr Sant promises to tackle corruption, his promises on tax cuts, education and health are also not backed with fiscal reality. Besides, his coolness makes me wary rather than inspire me with confidence.
So far all we are getting is hard sell, it is after the election that we shall have to wake up to what really is at stake.
In the meantime, I am really scared of that bully – “It’s all about me” – DCG, and of publishing my views. So much so that I have been quaking in my boots since Monday morning, when I got round to reading her letter to MaltaToday the day before.
I am so grateful that it is thanks to her that I have forged a career as a columnist in Malta. I had not realised she carried so much influence at Allied Newspapers.
Unlike her, I am weak and never write anything strong or remarkable. Maybe, because I do not shove my opinions down people’s throats like geese before the kill and my attacks are not nasty. Consequently, hardly anybody reads my ramblings.
I am, obviously, so green with envy that I am not high profile and do not have her sophistication, personality, integrity and intellect not to mention her writing abilities.
Daphne needs to get real, grow up and learn that life in Malta is not all about her. She can dish it out, but she cannot take it.
I certainly have my faults, but envy and hatred are not among them. Anyone reading my article a couple of Sundays ago would realise that “PN groupie” referred to a political groupie, meaning a sycophantic follower of a political party and I am sure that no one, except her, imagined anything else.
Besides, it is only very young, unmarried girls who are rock star groupies, so where does she make the connection?
As to setting facts straight, I very rarely have any kind of conversation with Daphne let alone about rumours about her. If I wanted to verify anything I do not need her to invite me to do it. Talk about delusions of grandeur.
I do not rely on rumours; I saw Daphne and her sister Corinne walking up the internal stairs of the Auberge de Castille (it was during the day and not in the evening) in a small entourage, including Richard Cachia Caruana, with then Prime Minister Eddie Fenech Adami. Perhaps Pierre Portelli can back me up on this one. He was there (not in the entourage). Come to think of it, a hell of a lot of people were there.
I never said she was a guest. In fact, I thought at the time that it was a bit odd and remember commenting about it when I got back to the Sunday Times office.
Anyway, I just wish DCG would stop being so tiresome. She is entitled to her opinion and I am to mine. Free speech does not only apply to her. She can suffer under the illusion that she has a God-given right to be the only dissenting voice around, to hiss, boo and try to undermine me as much as she likes, but she is wasting her time.
I know I am setting myself up to be up the proverbial creek with no oars, because I refuse to back one party, but self interest has never motivated me.
Anyway, I have got other things going for me that no one can take away, whoever is in power.
That was brought home to me at St James Cavalier, which by the way was a PN achievement, on Friday evening. Congratulations are in order to everyone involved in the intercultural celebration of music, dance, film and food. It was a great success. There was so much going on that everyone would have enjoyed it. The place was teeming with children and they were having a ball.
Toddlers, older children and adults of varying age, size and nationality joined in the Salsa dance class and for the more classically minded the tango performance was also well received. As for the Flamenco dancers, people were turned away from the theatre because it was full for both performances. The other dance activities were held in the main hall where paintings were on display.
Then there were different music presentations with an inspiring avant-garde trio in the music room, Renzo Spiteri leading an African/Maltese percussion, strings and song performance (the drumming was sensational) in the theatre and a Chinese young woman playing a string instrument, which was something between a santur (she was not using sticks but plucking at the strings) and a horizontal harp, in the main hall.
A delicious aroma emanated from the exhibition hall upstairs, which had a display of Ljupco Samardziski’s paintings and people were queuing for a buffet of seemingly endless, Asian food. The event was a truly multicultural celebration, which gave a delightful start to my weekend. And I am still smiling.

pamelapacehansen@gmail.com