Opening Malteser Adventures.

Thought I'd bring you up to date on what's been happening in my first week of life in the bloody sun.

Well up until Thursday it's been work everyday, various shifts, followed by drinks in the local pub and either a meal out, or a small take-away. The heat has been getting to me from day one. I knew it would, despite a million and one people telling me I was lucky to be here. I certainly don't feel lucky.

I'm not sure people grasp how depressing it is to feel sweaty. To sit in a chair and feel your arms stick to the furniture. Getting out of bed just to go to the bathroom, but having to towel yourself down just to get back onto the mattress. Stepping into a shop off the street just for a bottle of coke and feeling the water pour off your forehead. This isn't just a one off. This is from 6am to 11pm everyday so far. It's relentless. I had similar issues in the UK, but no one took a blind bit of notice. I've lost count of the times I said I'm not going to enjoy the heat, only to hear the reply 'Oh count yourself lucky, you'll have better weather than us'. 10 days in total I've been here, and 10 days I've hated the weather.

I made it worse for myself on Thursday. I had finally moved into my new place (which took two days, because wheeling suitcases through tourist traffic, uphill in temps exceeding 95 degrees is not going to be done in one go). I decided to make use of my balcony and sat out on the lounger for a short while with an ice cold lager and lime and my book. Of course I covered the lounger in towels (see above for the reason) but after about 15 minutes the heat was getting to me, despite the fact I wasn't having to move, so I went back indoors. Over the next few hours I got redder and redder and redder. Not nice and evenly of course, that would be too much to ask, but in sections. My chest, upper arms and the right side of both legs were glowing red, and now I was in agony. This was after 15 minutes of sun. I walked (gingerly) to the local pharmacy (which happens to carry the Boots sign) and was shown to the 'after-sun' section by a nice young assistant. Cheapest bottle was 11 Euros. 11 Euros!!!! (That's exactly 10 quid at the moment). It was kind of soothing for a brief moment, but I didn't get any sleep that night. I think I had 6 showers that day, and ran the air-con all through the night, but I just couldn't drop off.

Next day the pain was still there (in fact it still is to some degree) but it was now bearable. This was my second day off, but I wasn't going anywhere near the outdoors during the height of the sun. I got in touch with an old friend from IOM who moved to Malta about 12 months ago and we arranged to meet for drinks that night. I had in the back of my head it was close to his birthday, in fact I'd got it spot on, his birthday was that night. It was great to meet up. We had a few drinks in Sliema, and chatted about the IOM, books, films, things we knew we always had in common. He actually seemed grateful to chat to someone he could hold an intelligent conversation with for the first time since he got there. He was meeting up with more frineds in Paceville (Malta's nightlife area) so we got a bus up in that direction. After a couple of drinks in a quiet bar, he went off to meet his friends and I caught a bus back to Sliema. I was more than welcome to join him, but it was approaching 11pm, and after that I would be in taxi territory. Taxis over here are notorious rip-offs and it's too early in the month for me to be throwing money away.

I caught a bus, along with about 30 other people and it set off. Straight away I thought something was wrong as it didn't follow the route I expected it to, and you could hear murmours from the rest of the passengers. The driver then came to a road (which was signposted to Sliema) but there was a barrier across it. "Ok, Sliema is closed. If you want Sliema get off now" Were his exact words. I knew for a fact Sliema wasn't closed, but clearly he had no intentions of going there, so I got off. In the middle of nowhere. No recognisable landmarks, just an unlit back street.

I walked for about 10 minutes in a straight line, hoping to catch a glimpse of civilisation, or a sight I could use as a beacon. Nothing. I carried on, at least another 5 minutes. I came across a dramatic looking church (wish I'd had my camera) and on top was a neon red cross. This I did know. I'd never been to it, but it used to domintate the skyline directly behind the staff flat. All I hoped was that there wasn't more than one church in Sliema with a neon red cross! I thought at last I had a point of reference. I carried on with more confidence, and after a further 5 minutes, found myself on the waterfront, halfway between my old and new apartments. 10 minutes later I was back indoors. A total of 30 minutes walking after a bus driver kicked us all off. This included a whole load of tourists, some of them of an elderly persuassion, dumped in the middle of nowhere.

So there you have it. I drink about 4 litres of mineral water a day, drink far to much alcohol to take away the pain of being here and I'm sick to death of my boss....

..oh and I've been bitten twice already.