Sunday
Big family lunch at upmarket and very crowded restaurant, to celebrate my father's 70th birthday. After an excellent - if ridiculously expensive - meal, Pa (ever the politician) insists on making a speech; even though he left parliament before the last election.
He only speaks for 23 minutes, but at the end of it I am aware that since he rose to his feet, the restaurant seems to have emptied somewhat... strange that.
Monday
After the mini ministerial reshuffle I am left with mixed feelings. On the one hand I'm a bit miffed that the big boss didn't yet see me as a candidate for one of the highest offices of state. But on the other hand I rather like it here at the Ministry for Obfuscation. And... as my father frequently reminds me: "You're lucky to be in government at all. Remember, politics is the highest form of public service. No politician must ever lie. He must merely avoid spelling out the truth. Not difficult my boy. I made a career of it." And so he did.
Tuesday
With mutterings of insubordination wafting around the party's MPs, our very own little elves at Pietà have come up with the wheeze to microchip all government MPs, to ensure that when a vote is called in parliament, we can all be traced and - if necessary - whisked to the palace to vote.
I think it's an excellent idea and I don't mind a microchip being stuck under my skin; just as long as it doesn't do what the one my father fitted his German shepherd dog with, before taking him abroad. Afterwards, every time he entered Pa's house, he set off the burglar alarm. Could be tricky in parliament that.
Wednesday
The oldest constituent in my district, Mrs Ebejer Tanti, turns 100 today. This is a photo-op not to be missed. So, armed with a cameraman and a still photographer from our friendly media, I descend on her house in my village. Only to discover the Leader of the Opposition and an opposition MP from my district have beaten me to it... and have been made much more welcome than I would have apparently been. I retreat with the old crone's insults ringing in my ears. Ah well, that's one less house call I'll have to make before the next election... with a bit of luck.
Thursday
My ongoing fury at having to call the cupboard under the stairs at my ministry... an office, escalates to boiling point this morning. I arrive at the ministry to discover that now I can't even get into the confounded hovel since it's full to the brim with election flyers... ready for the next general election. Since this is three years away, I am somewhat baffled and storm into the permanent sec's office to remonstrate about it. After I spend 10 minutes berating him, he sighs languidly and has the audacity to say: "Oh you noticed them did you. Yes well, I asked for them to be put in there before the ministerial reshuffle. I hadn't anticipated that you'd still be with us... ahem." Oh nice.
Friday
Just as I'm getting used to parenthood, even the messy bits, the mother-in-law has to spoil it all. Today when I arrive home from the ministry, she confronts me with: "So, are you trying for another baby? An only child can have a terribly lonely time you know." Hey give us a break; I'm only just recovering from Angelika's first pregnancy. I'm not ready for the stress of all that again, for a very, very long time... if ever.
Saturday
Yet again I have been thrown to the lions. My minister has nominated me to be a judge in the Junior Miss Malta contest at the Med Con Centre. It is very probably the most gruesome task I have ever undertaken. A succession of painted and primped kindergarten tots parade before my fellow judges and myself, with hip swivelling movements and come hither winks.
But worse is to follow. After we choose the winner, we then have to run the gauntlet of the baying mothers of the unsuccessful brats. By comparison... the charge of the light brigade would have been a breeze.