I go out for a quiet bloggers’ meeting and come back to find out that my blog has been “hijacked” by a catfight. I’m not really into this kind of thing but far be it from me to interfere with the ladies. For more about the catfight just visit the post called “Bitchin’ Time” which is about two posts back. Never was a post so aptly and prophetically chosen. I got lost somewhere between the Gallarija jibes and Daphne’s tea set.

Anyways. Bloggers meeting passed fast and a photo will soon be posted on the web. I will spend the rest of the weekend concentrating one of my best friend’s wedding to a fabulous lady. Just spent a bit of the night with the groom to be as I accompanied him in the last steps of his journey towards becoming a mature voter (at least some would say so).

I’d really love to join the scratching and hissing of the married ladies in the other post but frankly I think it would not do me much good.

Meanwhile… back in the city.

Walking to my Paceville flat I overheard the following conversation between three policemen (fully decked out in NCIS uniform with baseball hat – cool):

“Fottewna biz-zikk ta’ regola tax-xorb”
“Mela… qabel konna nigbru erba fliexken u nsarfuhom ewro”.

In case you missed it, new regulations in Paceville prevent people from drinking in the street. The policemen are miffed because they can no longer collect empty bottles on their round and exchange them for some cents. Underpaid police force or what?


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