My first idea was to take a leaf out of Judge Michael Mallia’s report into former police inspector Daniel Zammit’s dubious prosecution of a 2008 murder. But I’ve decided to postpone the agony because it’s August and hot enough as it is. So I’ll leave the police grilling on ice and talk about Gozo instead.

Gozo is a place I’ve been meaning to write about anyway. And I suspect it will be a slightly more summery and atmospheric read.

Unlike Ivan Fenech, who wants no truck with Gozo and the Gozitans, I am rather enamoured of the place and its people. Perhaps the island enjoys an unfair advantage because I fell in love with it when I was a little girl. Like many others, I am inclined to believe that the attachments we make when we’re young stay with us forever: which probably explains why people are most comfortable swimming where they swam in childhood.

Those carefree on-and-off years I spent on Gozo with my aunt and uncle have left their mark. There were always tears on departure and a period of mourning back home on Malta. I even wore the obligatory Gozo T-shirt.

British novelist Julian Barnes once wrote that “memories of childhood were the dreams that stayed with you after you woke”. That’s Gozo for me, to the T of that ‘I left my heart in Gozo’ T-shirt.

A handful of places overseas have the same effect on me, with the difference that there comes a time when I feel I want – or at least ought – to go back home. But with Gozo, it always feels that I’m finally home.

And just in case this reads too much like heady nostalgia, what I actually want to say is something far more practical and real.

I recently reconnected with Gozo with a small vengeance. I have spent a lot of time there these last few months and can now confirm that it works for me in a way that Malta doesn’t and probably never will.

So while Fenech thinks we should pass on Gozo, my advice to travellers is to bypass Malta and go to Gozo instead. Of course, the surge in tourism could ruin Gozo, as it has Malta, but then I don’t really think that’s a fair or accurate analysis. We blame visitors all too easily for the sorry state of our once beautiful island. But ultimately it’s down to each and every one of us. Why is it that we’re so house proud and yet so ‘unaware’ of the street outside?

Let’s start with rubbish and waste disposal. The ingenious Gozitans let it all hang out. Yes, that’s right – you’ll never see garbage bags lying around or taking up valuable pavement space. It’s all carefully packed for collection on hooks. This is disciplined public health: it keeps vermin away while ensuring that cats and dogs don’t have their unhygienic and unsightly way with your garbage bag.

Gozo is what Malta used to be like and should aspire to be again: clean, organised and a credit to everyone

Walking through Sliema and St Julian’s is an exercise in dodging yesterday’s leftovers, not to mention cans, beer bottles, milk cartons and other detritus strewn over cracked pavements. In conditions such as these, civic awareness is bound to fall by the wayside.

I’m not really a stickler, but when it comes to litter and people who think they can just dispose of it as they please, I become rabid. And here’s the thing about dirty streets: you’re more likely to throw something away if the place already looks like a dump.

Gozo doesn’t lend itself to this sort of crass behaviour. The other day, I actually saw a couple picking up their cigarette butts as they left the beach. I was gobsmacked. I immediately recalled my last visit to a beach in Sliema after everyone had left it: wine bottles, glasses, beer cans and ice-cream wrappers all stuffed underneath sunbeds or falling out of bins.

The cleanliness of Gozo makes all the difference and partly explains why the island appeals so strongly and why I’m a much nicer and better person there. But there are other factors.

Compare Gozo’s beaches with Malta’s. In Malta if you want a beach with a sunbed and umbrella, with very few exceptions you’re in the clutches of a commercial establishment. Which means you’re exposed to music, a regimental line-up and that awful feeling that you’re not quite getting the full unadulterated ‘life is a beach’ experience.

Not so with Gozo. Almost anywhere on Gozo, you rent the sunbed and umbrella without having to endure invasive commercialism. This is because the Gozitans understand what spoils the authenticity of a beach. They rent umbrellas and beds from unobtrusive vans. It’s a one-man-van band and it works beautifully. The umbrellas are magically all blue and white and there are no awful adverts either, which adds to that Grecian feel.

In fact, friends of mine have been pushing me to join them on a holiday in Greece, and my stock reply has been: “We have Greece right here – it starts with a G and ends in ozo!”

Gozo is what Malta used to be like and should aspire to be again: clean, organised and a credit to everyone. It’s a challenge – Gozo has only one tenth the population – but there are things we can do. . .

Which our seemingly disengaged local councils can’t or won’t. Are they underfunded? Overwhelmed? Lacking morale? Or are their sympathies ‘political’ before ‘local’?

I really don’t know, but the shabbiness of our environment is a national disgrace and it gets talked about abroad. It also destroys our own everyday quality of life, making it rather unbearable. How ridiculous is that?

A community ‘conscience’ would be the Holy Grail: but if that fails, then it’s the well-worn path of enforcement and penalty. I think we should really consider substituting traffic wardens with litter wardens.

Still, big sister Melita could certainly learn a thing or two from little sister Calypso.

michelaspiteri@gmail.com