Max is trying to work. He is in the middle of drafting an e-business strategy for an English Language School. It is a difficult time, work is not plentiful and Max is running late. Worse, Max is experiencing writer's block. He is spending an inappropriate amount of time reading other people's blogs and day-dreaming.
And this morning, Liz decided to get Joe, the Siggiewi handyman, to do building work on the garden.
Max scrambled the Internet to look for good news. He may have found it in The Times' snippet on the Siggiewi road. To say that the track to Siggiewi is a disgrace is an understatement. Max has lost hub caps, had a door damaged by a piece of flying rock and probably dislocated a couple of discs in his twisted spine in return for the pleasure of driving through the moon craters. Now Government appears to have a change of heart and is planning to sort out the 2.5km track from the Zebbug roundabout to Max's home.
Max remembers there was a time in his life when he didn't worry about road surfaces, when he used to drive decent cars and didn't drive every day in fear of his life.
Max tries to remember that he returned to Malta for the 'quality of life'.
Yesterday Max met a lawyer who deals with 'high value individuals who occasionally wish to use Malta for fiscal purposes.' The lawyer said that he only ever fllies in his clients on private jet and preferably at night 'so they don't see the dump I've landed them in.'
Max thinks that the high value individuals could do worse than land on Malta's most significant man-made asset.Here it is...