My lovely family guests have gone and it has been a
blast. So much laughter and so much
walking! Sometimes 7 kms a day. Being with those you love, is such therapy
for mind and soul. I have a wonderful
memory of walking in Medina, a beautiful walled city in the centre of Malta
with my mum and my aunt.
My mother had just come fresh from polishing our brass
doorknob here, which until her arrival had languished dull and neglected on our
front door like all the other knockers in our block of flats. I expect people are far too busy nowadays to
see to such things. My mother, however,
knows a challenge when she sees it and the Brasso was out every day until our doorknocker
shone like gold. I wish I could show
you ours, before she got started on her mission to improve but since my
neighbours have neglected theirs I can use theirs to show the difference.
Before
After
The only problem is here in Malta the brass doorknockers are
abundant and elaborate in design. They
can range from fish to faces, and come in a vast range of sizes. As we walked through the tourist packed
streets of Medina, my mother was constantly pointing out new designs that drew
her attention on church doors, houses and shops.With every discovery, she would
announce in a loud excited voice, “Look at the knockers on that!” Oblivious to the startled reaction of
passer-by’s she would extol the size, the shine, the uniqueness of the
knockers. I grew used to the head
turns, the shocked looks as she proclaimed, “I’ve never seen knockers this big”. Even when someone had forgotten to shine
their doorknockers there was plenty to say, “For goodness sake, some one should
clean these knockers, they would be beautiful if only someone would give them a
bit of attention”.
Since my Mum is a
respectable age, it seemed all the more shocking to have these titbits on a regular basis. If anyone reading this happened to be in Medina that day, can I apologise for what they were subjected
to. There was something even more
unexpected that a very respectful looking white haired pensioner felt duty bound to admire all
the knockers on display that day. I
observed one low cut dressed German lady, across the street from us, attempt to
cover her ample bosoms as my mum pointed out a set of furious head shaped
knockers behind her with the startled exclamation, “My goodness that is a terrifying pair
of knockers!”
