The problem with the Maltese inventor of unilateral thinking is that it’s really very hard to keep him out of one’s sight. You might say that’s an issue with politics in Malta generally, especially when the word ‘election’ looms. It gets into one’s pores, flavours one’s food, and cramsall conversation into a standard formula.

When you wake up every morning to the thought of Franco Debono rather than tobacco and coffee, you know it’s time to run- Mark-Anthony Falzon

When you wake up every morning to the thought of Franco Debono rather than tobacco and coffee, you know it’s time to run. Question is, where to? It’s at times like this that being cooped up on a small island matters.

The obvious answer is to phone Air Malta and let them in on your credit card details. But I suppose that’s too easy and in any case holidays come inlimited quantities. One must therefore look for domestic spaces of relief.

I found myself accosted the other day by a bunch of scruffy-looking young men and women who seemed to have set up station next to Piano’s soon-to-be Parliament building. Don’t be fooled by the dubious dress sense, their mission was to collect signatures for a petition to save what’s left of the Mosta section of Wied il-Għasel. I believe Alternattiva Demokratika has also taken up the cause.

I signed the petition. The next day I drove up to Mosta to see for myself. Perhaps I should have proceeded in reverse order, but I tend to trust scruffy-looking young men and women.

I won’t bore readers too much with details of what the petition is about. Then again, it’s quite unbelievable that someone should have seen fit to destroy one of the loveliest stretches of valley anywhere in Malta.

Even more unbelievable that their intention should have been sanctioned by the Planning Authority. The excuse will probably be that the development will not touch the valley bottom itself. Which is a bit like building a skyscraper in the ‘empty’ patch in front of St Peter’s. It shows, at the very least, a crass misunderstanding of how spaces work together to produce a holisticexperience. I used to be a bird ringer several years ago and Wied l-Isperanza, itself part of Wied il-Għasel, was one of the places I went to most.

At one point I had even planted some saplings there (bird ringers have a habit of planting trees wherever they go). I’m happy to say one has survived and is now a pine of no mean proportions. In other words I know the place well.

Walking along the watercourse it took me the best part of five seconds to forget all about unrecognised talents and legal genius. Who cares when there are 50 Chiffchaffs (a jewel of a bird) nipping about the reeds? By the time I reached the chapel of St Paul at Qlejgħa my mind was as distant from Pietà as could possibly be. I was thus free to spend time taking in the ship graffiti scrawled on the chapel walls. Pure bliss.

“Debono? Franco Debono? Who he? Never heard of him.” The sweetest moment of the week as far as I’m concerned. The occasion was a visit to a garage. A rather unusual one too, for this was the studio of a well-known artist. As one might expect, it was full of bits and pieces – clay, wire, modelling wax, wood, unfinished pieces, sketches, and such.

The guy doesn’t have a television and his computer and internet cable parted company a good while ago. He’s no hermit mind you. It’s just that he can’t be bothered with votes of confidence, personality clashes, and the sufferings of backbenchers.

It was heaven. We spent the best part of three hours talking about all sorts of things except you know what. When I joked about the name and he asked the question I didn’t care to explain. I told him it was a character from a historical novel and he seemed happy enough with that.

There are two conclusions to all of this. First, that one needn’t necessarily despair at living on a small island. It turns out that it’s quite possible to escape, as long as one knows the right escape routes.

Second, that there’s a special value to things like art and landscape that really comes across in times like these. Take Wied il-Għasel. I don’t necessarily care about the ‘scientific’ or ‘ecological’ value of the place – the rarity of its freshwater shrimps, endemic plants, and such.

The more important thing is that it’s a corner of Malta where one is unlikely to bump into Debono. Lest he misinterpret this as an evil plan to keep him away from the place, I should add I’m using him simply as an example of something that’s ubiquitous and mundane.

Wied il-Għasel is worth protecting at least for this reason. It serves up a space where one can get away from all the pointless hubbub and reconnect to things that offer infinitely higher dividends.

As for the artist, I’d be prepared to lay down my life for the sanctity of his studio-garage.

One of the scruffy young men in Valletta used to be a student of mine. I met him again a day after I signed the Wied il-Għasel petition. He was carrying some kind of rolled-up papers and told me he had just been to art school.

Truly a case of living in the gutter and looking at the stars.

mafalzon@hotmail.com