Today, I say goodbye to Malta for the present

I am sad. I do not wish to return to England, with the rain, and the cold, and destruction of the NHS, and the lack of coherent policy. Of course, a holiday is a very different thing from living here, and the politics here care also Ian major muddle. But, somehow, when you can get into the sea and cswim away your worries, letting the water carry you and gentle you back into a good mood, it seems to matter less. I have had a very lazy week. I have swum, and sunbathed, and ad my books, and caught up with friends. I have eaten delicious fish and drunk rather too much white wine. And now I must return. I must pick up threads, return to the fight, do my best to prevent the destruction of the NHS. I have felt rejuvenated - until about a minute ago, when the concierge told me my taxi is here. Suddenly, I don't want to go at all. I want to tell the man to go away, fishy swimsuit out of my packed suitcase and head back to the sea. Of course, I shall do nothing of the kind. I shall smile, thank everybody, head off. But I have not felt this bad for many years. Perhaps the time has come to stop pretending and to accept that the career I thought I had bot up is over and that I could do worse than an idle life in Malta.