My Precious!

Shall I confess my weaknesses? How often they lie hidden, even from ourselves — especially from ourselves. Then, at certain moments, they reveal themselves with startling clarity. Moving house is one such moment, particularly when the move is abroad. Suddenly, painful decisions must be made. Do you pack this? Give it to a charity shop? Pass it on to a friend? Or simply throw it away? The pressure of time only sharpens the difficulty of every choice.

At such moments, we are forced to confront our own peculiar attachments — our little fetishes. Mine are notebooks, pens, and anything remotely connected to calligraphy. Even when my drawers and suitcases are already overflowing, I still linger longingly in stationery shops, tempted to buy more. Pens and pencils seem to call out to me irresistibly. Never mind that I already own a vast collection of fountain pens, complete with cartridges in every imaginable colour, alongside pencils ranging from soft 2B to velvety 6B. I buy ballpoint pens too, usually with an ultra-fine 0.35 mm tip. Once, I even bought a heavy rotary pencil simply because I loved its look and weight, only to spend weeks scouring the internet for the rare oversized 2B lead it required.

Another, perhaps more alarming, obsession is toiletries — anything connected with showering, shampooing, lotions, or potions. Every house I have ever left has contained at least three large crates filled with such things. I seem to accumulate them with effortless speed. Still, on the bright side, I have little interest in clothes, shoes, or handbags, so perhaps some restraint remains.

By now, you are probably thinking of your own particular guilty obsession. You know exactly where to buy it, which make you prefer, and how oddly reassuring it feels simply to have it close at hand. Like the wheels on a suitcase, these obsessions keep us moving forward. They comfort us in ways only we fully understand. When preparing for a major move, we mentally clear space so that the things that truly ring our bells can be given pride of place.

Letting go of possessions is painful, though often necessary. Yet certain objects cling stubbornly to our fingers, transforming us momentarily into Gollum — that wretched creature from The Lord of the Rings — clutching our treasures and hissing defensively, “My precious, my precious!”

Birdsong, seedlings, hammered into something by life

 

When did I begin to notice birdsong?

Or pause in quiet wonder as a tender seedling lifts itself from the dark earth into the light?

Now the beauty of nature can suddenly bring tears to my eyes.

Perhaps it is because, with age, one has witnessed so much sorrow and heartache that the spirit itself becomes softened and worn thin by life. 

Beaten and hammered on both sides until it grows almost translucent.

So delicate that even the song of a bird can pass straight through it and touch the very core of the soul.

The Dangers of Laughing gas

I used to work in a highly specialised, controlled environment designed to manufacture semiconductor devices and integrated circuits on the tenth floor of the Ashby Building at Queen’s University Belfast. It was a clean laboratory where continuous filtration achieved 99.99% efficiency in removing even the smallest particles.

The air we breathe is a precise mixture of gases:

Nitrogen 78%, Oxygen 21%, Argon and trace gases 1%, and Carbon dioxide 0.04%.

On one occasion, an alarm sounded to warn that oxygen levels in the lab had risen too high, and we were instructed to evacuate until they returned to normal. It served as a powerful reminder of how vital—and how finely balanced—this mixture is for life. Disturbing it, even slightly, can have serious consequences.  So imagine my surprise when, this morning, I found something quite different on the doorstep of my apartment block, left out with the usual rubbish for collection.

There were around six blue canisters labelled Miami Magic—nitrous oxide. While commonly used for whipping cream, it is increasingly misused by young people for recreational purposes. I doubted anyone needed to whip that much cream and wondered who was using this substance here in Malta.

Nitrous oxide is now considered the third most commonly used drug among 16–24-year-olds in the UK, after cannabis and cocaine. Other surveys suggest that between 10% and 20% of teenagers and young adults in some European regions have tried it at least once. A global survey in 2021 estimated that nearly 24% of people aged 16–24 had used it. In the United States, poison centres recorded a 1,332% increase in annual cases of nitrous oxide poisoning over a 20-year period, with a particularly sharp rise from around 2023.

How it is used recreationally

Typically, the gas is released from the canister into a balloon—direct inhalation from the canister is dangerous due to the pressure and extreme cold. The user then inhales the gas from the balloon to experience its effects. In some places, young people pay around five euros for two balloons. As always, where there is demand, there are those willing to profit from it. Recent local reports have highlighted the growing use of this gas among young people in Gozo.

The Effects

Often called “laughing gas,” the effects are almost immediate but short-lived, lasting only a minute or two. They include light-headedness, euphoria, giggling, and altered perception. Because the effect is so brief, users often repeat the process multiple times in a session, increasing the risks. The name itself tends to downplay the seriousness of the substance.

Immediate risks

Nitrous oxide reduces oxygen availability in the body, which can lead to fainting, loss of consciousness, or, in extreme cases, death. The gas is stored under pressure and expands rapidly, which can cause cold burns—freezing the skin, lips, or throat if inhaled improperly. It can also affect heart and breathing function, particularly when combined with alcohol or other drugs.

With repeated or heavy use

Nitrous oxide interferes with vitamin B12, leading to deficiency. This can cause nerve damage, resulting in numbness, tingling, weakness, and difficulty walking. In severe cases, it may lead to long-term damage to the spinal cord or brain. Mental health may also be affected, with symptoms such as mood changes, confusion, and cognitive impairment. Some studies indicate that damage can develop within weeks or months of repeated use.

In response to these risks, governments are increasingly taking action. Malta has now officially banned the recreational use of nitrous oxide as of Wednesday, 29 April 2026. It is hoped that this measure will help reduce its use and prevent the harm it can cause—particularly among the young.

Chinese Empress Wu Zeitian's lost gold plea for forgiveness in 700AD found after 1300 years

There was only ever one woman who ruled in her own right as a Chinese empress in the entire history of that land. Her name was Wu Zetian, and her reign lasted from 690 to 705 AD.

She entered the imperial palace as a relatively unimportant fifth-rank concubine, but over time she rose in influence until she came to govern the entire empire. She did much to promote Buddhism in China; for example, the famous Longmen Grottoes bear witness to this patronage.

To reach such heights of power, she had to eliminate many rivals. She was known to be ruthless, even toward family, friends, and foes alike. According to one account, she smothered her newborn daughter and accused Empress Wang and Consort Xiao of the crime; both women were subsequently executed. With these key figures removed, her ascent to supreme power was swift.

In her seventy-seventh year, seeking forgiveness for the wrongs she believed she had committed, she had a golden tablet made—36.2 cm long and composed of 96% gold—inscribed with words including:

"I ask that my sins be forgiven and beg that my wrongs be erased."

This tablet was cast into a crevice on Mount Song in Henan Province around the year 700 AD. It remained hidden and lost for some 1,300 years until it was discovered by a farmer gathering herbs in 1997.

"With fire We test the gold, and with gold We test Our servants"

Bahá’í writings

Murdered in Malta

On 2 January 2022, Paulina Dembska, a 29-year-old Polish student, was found dead in Independence Gardens in Sliema, Malta. Investigations revealed that she had been raped and murdered—an act that profoundly shocked the nation. Paulina was known to visit the gardens in the early morning to feed and care for the cats there, a quiet reflection of the kindness and compassion that defined her life. Those who knew her remember her as a deeply loving and gentle person.

She had done nothing to deserve such violence. She did not know her attacker, who had reportedly assaulted two other individuals near the gardens shortly before the crime. In the days and weeks that followed her death, vigils and memorials were held across Malta, as people came together in grief and in a shared call for justice. Today, benches and walls in and around Independence Gardens bear her name and image, a lasting tribute to her memory.

The suspect was arrested soon after the murder and has remained in custody awaiting trial ever since. At the time of the offence, he was already on probation and had a history of criminal behaviour dating back to his youth. In 2025, while in custody, he reportedly carried out another violent attack, stabbing a fellow inmate in the eye with a pen. Yet, more than four years later, no trial has taken place. For Paulina’s parents and her five siblings in Poland, the wait for justice—and for some measure of closure—continues. It is difficult to understand how such delays can persist in a case of this gravity.

“The structure of world stability and order hath been reared upon, and will continue to be sustained by, the twin pillars of reward and punishment.”

— Bahá’í Writings

Each day, as I pass the memorials dedicated to Paulina, I find myself asking why justice moves so slowly. What message does this send to victims of violence, past and present? What does it signal to those who might commit such acts? Justice delayed risks becoming justice denied—not only for Paulina, but for all who look to the system for protection and accountability.

At one of the vigils in 2022, Paulina’s family shared a poem she had written. It remains a powerful reminder of her voice, her humanity, and the values she held:

“You came naked, you’ll go naked away.

You came defenceless and weak,

you’ll be so weak and vulnerable again when you leave.

You came without money or material things.

You will also leave without money.

Your first shower was when someone washed you.

In your last one, some person will wash you.

That is what being a human being is like.

So why so much pride?

Why so much malice?

Why so much jealousy, so much hatred,

resentment and selfishness?

We have limited time on earth so why do we waste it so senselessly?”

— Paulina Dembska

Please remember Paulina, and keep her family and loved ones in your thoughts and prayers.

Cell Death: Not All “Zombies” Are the Same

Apoptosis – “Planned self-destruction” Cells don’t always die in chaos—sometimes, they exit quietly and efficiently.  Apoptosis is a controlled, orderly process where a cell essentially decides it’s time to go—usually because it’s damaged or no longer needed. The cell shrinks, breaks itself into small, tidy fragments, and these are quickly cleaned up and recycled by the body. 

One cool example of apoptosis occurs in the formation of fingers.  Early in development, your hands actually start as paddle-like structures—with no separate fingers. The tissue between the future fingers is removed through apoptosis.  Cells in the “webbing” receive signals telling them to self-destruct.  They shrink, fragment, and are neatly cleared away.  This creates the spaces between the fingers.

There’s no inflammation, no mess—just a smooth, silent removal.  Like a building being carefully demolished and its materials reused.

Autophagy – “Self-cleaning / recycling” Autophagy isn’t really about dying—it's about survival.

In this process, the cell breaks down and recycles its own worn-out parts, especially during stress (like a lack of nutrients). It’s a way of conserving resources and staying alive. However, if stress is too severe or lasts too long, this self-recycling can eventually lead to cell death.

Like cleaning your house, repurposing old materials to keep things running.

Necrosis – “Accidental cell death”. Necrosis is the opposite of tidy. It happens when cells are suddenly damaged—by injury, toxins, or lack of oxygen. The cell swells and bursts, spilling its contents into the surrounding area. This triggers inflammation and can damage nearby cells.  Gangrene is an example of necrosis. The blood supply gets cut off, so cells don’t get oxygen and the tissue dies. The affected area can turn: dark purple → brown → black.

Like a building exploding—causing chaos and collateral damage.

Pyroptosis – “Fiery, alarm-raising death”. Pyroptosis is dramatic and purposeful.  When a cell detects infection, it sacrifices itself in a loud, inflammatory way to alert the immune system. The cell swells, bursts, and releases signals that call in immune defences. 

An example of this is infection with Salmonella (food poisoning bacteria). Here Salmonella infects macrophages (a type of immune cell). The infected cell detects danger using inflammasomes (like a built-in alarm system). Then pyroptosis happens and creates a strong immune response to fight the infection.

This isn’t quiet or neat—it’s a deliberate alarm system.

Like pulling a fire alarm to warn everyone that danger is near.

Not all cell death is the same:

Apoptosis = clean and controlled

Autophagy = survival through recycling

Necrosis = accidental and messy

Pyroptosis = loud and defensive

Together, these processes keep the body balanced—removing damaged cells, fighting infection, and adapting to stress. It strikes me that such cell deaths has parallels in our own lives.  We too have to decide to get rid of stuff in our lives, we have to decide what we can reuse or recycle, sometimes we get badly injured which can be messy to ourselves and those around us and finally sometimes we need to pull the alarm loudly on abuse to defend the whole community.

Big Rollers, Who knew?

A week ago I was visiting relatives in Manchester, and they very kindly took me on a day trip to Liverpool. The last time I had been there was fifty years ago, when I was a sulky teenager on a family car trip to Blackpool.

It was one of our last holidays all together, and we were at that awkward age when we felt far too grown up to still be travelling with our parents. I remember deliberately walking a good distance behind them, as though that might somehow disguise the fact that I belonged to them. Then I noticed that even further back, my two older brothers were doing exactly the same—each of us pretending we were not with the others at all.

Now, having lost both my parents, the memory makes me wince. I could almost cry at the selfishness of it. At that age I truly believed myself to be the centre of the universe, and the constant battle with facial spots felt like a tragedy beyond endurance. As someone once put it so well: “Youth is wasted on the young—because they are too busy thinking of themselves to notice it.”

Returning now as a pensioner, I found Liverpool vibrant, energetic, and full of life. The crowded streets, the noise, the sheer abundance of things to see and absorb—it was all quietly exhilarating.

One thing, in particular, caught my eye: the curious and wonderfully unapologetic habit of women wearing large hair rollers in public. From restaurants to buses, from shops to the airport—you could see them everywhere. I had no idea this was even a thing.

What struck me most was the confidence of it. In many places, people—especially women—feel an unspoken pressure to appear “finished” before stepping outside. Here, that expectation seemed to be gently mocked. The rollers were worn openly, almost cheerfully, as part of the process rather than something to be hidden.

I later learned that this is part practicality, part tradition, and part identity. The rollers are setting the hair in readiness for the evening ahead producing a big hair look for a night out—while they tackle daily tasks as usual. But more than that, it feels like a small, defiant celebration of self: a distinctly local style, worn with humour and pride.

And perhaps that was what I enjoyed most—the sense of ease in it. A kind of confidence that I suspect my younger self, so busy worrying about appearances, would never have understood.