Welcome to the story of Ted and Jan Whitfield's car journey from the UK to Malta and the first few weeks in our new home country

Chapter 1 - So Where are we and why?

The Jimmy is parked by the harbour wall of a small town that 2 months ago we didn’t know existed. Pozzallo is on the south coast of Sicily, and it is from here that the catamaran allegedly sails to Malta. I say allegedly because despite having an email confirming receipt of our payment and advising we could collect our tickets from the ferry company’s office “ an hour before sailing”, we are sat on the sea wall looking towards a locked gate which appears to be the entrance to the “embarkage to Malta”. The ferry is there though. We just can’t get to it or the “embarkage”.

We have spent the last week driving from England to Malta through France and Italy. It has been an experience – particularly the driving and eating in Italy. This is the last day of that journey. Tonight is our first in our new home in Malta on Sliema's long promenade, Tower Road. We hope.

But are we in the right place to board the ferry?

Does it sail at 3pm?

Why is nobody about who seems to be going to Malta, or who is involved in getting us there? In fact there is hardly anybody about.

We have arrived early as we normally do at ports and airports, but there are usually shops, cafes, and information offices. Here there is a café, but that’s part of the nearby yacht marina. We get a cheese toast each and wait. Other cars arrive, all Italian, and being Italian, when they find the port shut they leave!!

We of course wait. Via some friendly Italians who are as keen as us to reach Malta, we learn that the gate is unlocked at 2pm “ an hour before sailing”. So we continue to wait and being British start a queue.

Chapter 2 - Pozzallo- Malta

At Pozzallo the minutes tick by slowly. There is activity behind the locked doors, but no information. More cars arrive. Some stay, most drive off. Pedestrians arrive some wait; some hike away and find another way in. In fact it’s an entrance we were directed to here from by a uniform earlier!! Should we try the same. 2pm passes. The Italians are becoming agitated.

The gate opens at 2.10, we are first car in. Well actually second, as a Maltese couple in another Suzuki, have gone in the same way as the pedestrians!! I collect the tickets (no problem), and then join the queue for the ferry. An Italian in a uniform controls the queue. Is he police, customs, emigration? Who knows, but he is in charge and relishes his work. He wants passports, log books, insurance documents and all are studied intently. His job seems to be to worry would be travellers whatever their nationality – he does not discriminate. And only drivers can go on with their vehicle, passengers must walk on.

The ferry is laid out like an aeroplane only they have added a duty free shop where the front galley would be and a bar at the back. We have seat belt, and safety drill, and then we are off on our 90-minute “flight” to Malta.

And lo and behold 90 minutes later we are heading straight into Grand Harbour. On the right are the 3 towers at Portomosa, the Preluna and the Fortina. I am sure they are legal but all are above the legal limit of 8 floors high. To the left are the old forts with Saint Angelo flying the flag of the Knights of St John. Our little catamaran manoeuvres passed a huge cruise ship to its berth.

“Can Whitfield Janet (plus 2 other names) make herself known to a member of staff” shouts the tannoy. Jan does so, but the crew member doesn’t know why she is wanted. Then another crew member who does, explains that we have missed the call to return to Jimmy. We are parked in front another Suzuki Jeep. It belongs to the Maltese couple who had found the quicker way to check in at Pozzallo. They have been to Croatia on holiday and so have had a similar adventure with the Italian motorways.

Minutes later we are on the quayside, being directed then redirected into some sort of queuing system. A very friendly Maltese uniform asks for passports, log books, and insurance documents. This seems less hassle than earlier. It’s really just the tone of the person, but it helps anyway.

And quickly we are out of the port area and we are “ driving on the left” along the harbour road and into the Malta traffic. Of course we are heading the wrong way, and have to negotiate one of Malta’s busiest roundabouts at work coming out time. But soon we are passing through Pieta, Msida, and Gzira and into Sliema. Using the garage entrance of the block next door we unload Jimmy and I take him to his garage, for what will turn out to be longer than we had expected.

The flat contains a part made wardrobe and four foot sofa bed which we had delivered back in July, cooker, fridge-freezer and kitchen storage, and we have brought a small fold up table and 2 fold up beach chairs. For a proper bed and a sofa, we have to wait till Monday (its 6pm on Friday)

I do essentials food shopping, we shower, change, and take the bus to our favourite pub and restaurant – It is known as Guys Bar, but is called the Plough and Anchor. We first started visiting Guys bar in the 1980s, but knew it only as a pub. Guy had been in the British merchant navy, prior to acquiring the Plough and Anchor in the early 1980s. He died some years ago, and the business passed to his son and daughter. George runs the bar, whilst Dianna manages the cosy restaurant upstairs. And here are the improbable but true connections to the Whitfields. Back in the 1950s we lived in the same block of flats in Birkikara as the Moldens. Georgie Molden worked with my father at Dingli Wireless Station. Mrs Molden, Lena, is Guy’s sister. But at this stage I, a 5 year old, have no knowledge of Guy, George, or Dianna. In the late 1980s/early 1990s, I get to know a chap with Maltese connections, at my work place in Stoke on Trent. And he, George Molden, turns out to be the son of Lena, and Guy’s nephew, and George and Dianna’s cousin. And we have identical pictures from a birthday party from the 1950s, provided by our mothers from old dusty photo albums. George recommends the restaurant at Guys and we have been regulars ever since. And when at Guys, Mum always asks after Lena – but she lives in the UK!! We have even met George Molden at Guys Restaurant when both of us have been on holiday. And as I said Guy was a merchant seaman, well to add to the coincidences Guy worked for he Orient Line and served on their Liner the SS Orcades in the 1950s - the ship the Whitfields travelled back to the UK aboard in 1958!

Anyway we have a superb steak dinner, made all the better by having been on hotel restaurant food for most of last week!!! We announce we now live in Malta –it feels strange.

And so HOME to the near empty flat – all the dreaming, planning and organising the getting here are behind us. We now have to organise living here.

But how did we get to here

Chapter 3 - the good byes.

The weekends leading up to leaving have been very hectic with lots of visits by us or to us

3 September. Its Saturday evening and we are going with Toni and Phil, to Bob and Mel’s for a quiet meal. When we get there, half the regulars from the Coach are there. A very pleasant farewell.

Then on Sunday afternoon we had a last “Leffe” session outside the Packhorse in Northborough then to the Coach, all followed by a final BBQ in the garden.

27 August. To Scarborough to see Mum and our last Yorkshire cricket match. Our cricket local has moved from the Cricketers to the North Riding. It’s a weird experience but Stuart has moved and taken the inside of the pub, the staff and the customers with him!

20 August. We have organised a Chinese for the “Leffe Gang” (that’s Us, Bob, Mel, Toni and Phil), Sarah and John, Karen and David, Mike and Diana and Paul and Gladys (our old next door neighbours from Stoke, who are staying with us Friday and Saturday nights).

On Saturday afternoon the Leffe gang plus Paul and Gladys meet at the bus stop for the “Delaine” to Bourne. Its drinks in Smiths first. Smiths is a recent conversion to a pub and has won prizes for its architect and its owner. It is a veritable maze of rooms. We take over the upstairs front room for a couple of hours before descending on the finest Chinese we have ever been in. Tony, the boss of Xiang Xiang is over friendly at times in his desire to please, but the food is always excellent and the Salt and Pepper Squid is a must have. And the gift of free red and sparkling white wine was a bonus. The bus back was enlivened (particularly for Bob) by a hen party on their way into Peterborough. Nightcaps at ours concluded a fine evening.

13 August. Sue John and Jessika visit us

6 August. Tony, Jayne and the boys visit Deeping, for the Raft Race

30 July. We are at Sarah and John’s for their Summer BBQ

23 July. We are in Scarborough at Mums for Yorkshire Cricket. I had driven up for the 4-day game. Jan came up on the train on Friday. We eat at Café Fish, which we later discover was, in an earlier incarnation owned by the family of Sue, who with her husband, will be renting our house.

16 July We go to St Omer to buy Belgian beer to take to Malta, and for Jan to experience driving on the right

9 July. Tracy and Warren (no girls) visit Deeping

Before that we had had 2 weeks “holiday” for Sarah and John’s wedding and to visit Malta, sign the contract for the flat and sort out a few things ready for our arrival in September.

Chapter 4 - Packing and the last days in the UK

Monday sees me dropping Jan in Peterborough to visit banks and building societies to close accounts, cancel and change direct debits, transfer monies, and advise of new address. I drive to Heathrow with Smudge – the cat. She flies tonight, and has 3 weeks in quarantine when she arrives in Malta.

Tuesday is our last day before the removals company arrive, and much of it is spent taking things to the storage unit that we have hired, to the Red Cross shop and to the tip. Tea was using up what was left in the freezer and so was Chilli and Yorkshire Pudding – not bad either.

On wednesday the Packers arrive around 9am. There are 2 of them and they take a room each and start to fill boxes and to bubble wrap furniture. There are regular fag and tea breaks and they leave around 4.30pm Lots of the stuff is packed, a similar amount is still to pack, but the house is a mess. We still have a bed and a TV, but no Sky. We do have a cooker but no plates, no knives and forks, and no food. Tea is a take away from East Anglia’s finest fish and chip shop (they have certificates to prove it) – Linfords – eaten in the Garden. The garden furniture still has to be packed.

On Thursday the pace of the packing quickens, especially when around lunchtime the container arrives. And our possessions just fit in the container. It may be for show but for a time there seems to be a problem getting it in, then hey presto and the doors are closed and the seal is secured. Once the packers and the container are gone we have a near empty house. Tonight we are staying at the Towngate just around the corner, and eating out at the Coach with Toni and Phil and Clyde and Maureen. A few weeks ago, Clyde and Maureen were holidaying in Northumberland and whilst telling a local in a pub where they were from, were approached by “the ex wife of the best man of a couple who live in Deeping” And that couple is us, and we have lost touch with Tony the best man and Jaquie his ex wife.

So to Friday, when we have the Salvation Army collecting 2 beds, a carpet and curtain cleaner and an oven cleaner coming. The latter doesn’t show. We leave that job for the letting agent. He hands over the keys tomorrow. We also have a slight roof problem on the Jimmy, which the garage sort out.

It has been a hard week and for the final night in the UK, we do final drinks with the gang outside the coach, with lots of emotional good byes, and then return to the Towngate for a quiet meal and an early night. We start the adventure early tomorrow.

Chapter 5 -The Adventure starts. Deeping to St Omer

We leave Deeping soon after 9am, in The Jimmy, complete with 2 cases of clothes, 1 of essential paperwork, a box of kitchenware, 2 foldaway chairs, a fold up table, and bedding.

It’s a very wet morning, and its very slow on the M25, but we make Folkestone by a little after 12. We manage to get on an earlier shuttle than we had booked and are at the Ibis by 4pm. Sitting in a stationary car on a moving train, inside a tunnel is really strange!

Back at the Ibis our room is not ready, so as Jimmy is in the hotel's courtyard car park, we take the essential paperwork and decamp to the Queen Vic in the main square for a beer each – Jan has a Leffe Blonde, I try a Karmelit (from Bosteels) “ en pression” The Pub really is called the “Queen Victoria” and sells mostly Belgian “en pression” and bottles. And you can buy “a giraffe” of the “en pression”. A giraffe is a long tube with a tap on the bottom, holding several litres and is intended for putting on a table to share. Strange, but most of the cafes on the square have English names!

Back at the hotel, our room is still not ready. Standing at the door whilst it is prepared seemed to help! Showered, changed and back out. . First to St Omer’s home brew pub, up the narrow road to left of the Queen Vic. La Brasserie Audomaroise does not sell any lager at all, and only sells beer that is brewed on the premises. There is usually 5 or 6 different ones – always Blonde, Blanche (wheat beer) and Ambre (dark) plus seasonal and fruit favours. Today they have honey and chicory beers. Our favourite rhubarb is not on offer today.

While sat with our beer, we are enthralled by a strange French hen/stag ritual, which involves tying the bride and groom together and covering them in gunge. After which the perpetrators clean up the street!

We eat at a small restaurant close to the hotel called “Le St Charles. It’s our best meal in St Omer in several visits. We go back to the Queen Vic for a nightcap and return to the hotel for another early night (9.30) – we have an early start in the morning. We have 360 miles to drive. The early nights and early starts are about to become the norm.

Chapter 6 - St Omer to Beaune

Driving at 8.10, with me at the wheel. It is motorway all the way, and it is wet again. We have the “peage” to come to terms with. We are well prepared with AA routes printed off from the AA website and “peage” costs and locations from the “Autoroute” website.

It’s Sunday and the roads are fairly quiet with only a few lorries. As we go south it gets very hilly. I drive until noon, when we stop for a butty and petrol in a French Service Station. Then Jan does the final 2.25 hours to Beaune, and the directions on the Accor web site prove accurate and quite easy. We are at the hotel before 3pm, and it is still raining.

The Beaune Ibis looks good, it has a secure car park and an outdoor pool but it’s raining. The hotel unusually sells wine by the case to take away! Beaune is famous for its wine, but little did we realise how important wine is to the town. The room is ready, so we are checked in, but is still raining so we have a Leffe in the bar.

When the rain reduces to drizzle, we walk into town. There are many wine tasting/purchasing places. And the centre is old and pretty. I spot “Route 66” in a square. It has Belgian beer. Jan supports the local industry by having red wine, I try a Pelforth Bruin (ok so its French) and an Orval

An excellent evening meal at the hotel then another early night (9.30) – we have an early start in the morning

Chapter7 -Beaune – Aix en Provence

Set off at 8.05, and at Aix before 2pm but leave at the wrong exit. We drive through Aix several times and asked twice before finding the hotel!!

The Autoroute is busier today – Monday – and we start in rain like yesterday, but once past Lyon, the sky cleared and the sun emerged. We were driving through the “ Massive Centrale” and were the hills steep! We had 2 close calls in the car, once passing a minor accident and once stuck on a hill behind a very slow moving lorry. Loaded down, as it is Jimmy has little acceleration uphill.

The hotel, when we find it is next to the motorway – you can hear the traffic constantly when outside, and its isolated from the town, so we are confined to the hotel. The bar sells Grimbergen – and it is grim compared with last night’s choice! And the service is poor too! We had an excellent salad buffet starter, followed by an ok main course for dinner.

Another early night (9.30) – not only have we an early start in the morning, there is nothing to keep us up!

Chapter 8 - Aix en Provence – Firenze Airport

A longs day’s driving – 8.30 to 4.00. But what a journey. The motorway follows the Mediterranean coast and it is closed where it bypasses Monaco, so we have to go through the Principality. Lunch was taken sat outside at a service station with a sheer drop to the sea below. The journey was worth making just for today’s scenery. And on the windy, hilly, cliffside Italian autostrada we were held up by two accidents. The first was a cab and trailer with the trailer on its side and the driver trying to rescue his sheep that were inside – confused and dazed no doubt. But rescuing them on to a busy motorway! – out of the frying pan into the fire. The second was a three-lorry shunt – they drive close together in the UK, in Italy they are virtually joined to each other!

Exiting the motorway, and getting to the hotel was easy today – it was visible before the junction. And for an Ibis it is posh. Again we remain confined to barracks as the transport directions (metro/tram) into Firenze sounds too messy for a relaxed evening. And the room is spacious and comfortable. The view from the window is of the airport and a supermarket. The food is not memorable and the bar only has Italian lager. And we struggle ordering food because we dont understand the menu not just because its in Italian, it isnt starter, mauin course, dessert its well its Italian courses and they are ...

Another early night (9.30) – not only have we an early start in the morning, there is nothing to keep us up!

Another thing is this city called Firenze or Fiorentina – the hotel is Ibis Firenze Nord Aeroporto, but with a postal address of Fiorentina – the name of the football team.

Chapter 9 - Firenze – Caserta

Caserta is on the northern outskirts of Naples. After yesterday’s scenic drive, today was just a very busy motorway, with little to see. It was fortunately a short driving day, leaving Firenze at 8am and leaving the motorway for the hotel at 2pm. We stopped for lunch at an Italian motorway service area, and bought food from the “Autogrill” - we had stopped at one yesterday too. They make UK motorway service stations seem like five star restaurants.... But you can pay a couple of cents extra for attendant service at the petrol station and get the windscreen cleaned

The hotel was visible from the motorway, and getting to it was fairly straight forward, but this is Italy and the main road from the motorway to the hotel is packed with impatient Italian drivers. We are travelling fairly slowly watching out for the hotel, where we have to do a left across the traffic coming out of town, to enter the hotel car park. We are undertaken, and despite being in the outside lane are also overtaken several times. The hotel is a Novotel and has a huge foyer, a large bar area, very large restaurant and outside terrace and a pool. As we are booking in we are offered the pool for the afternoon. It is sunny, but the pool is closed. We sit on the terrace reading with a couple of glasses of Italian lager (the bar service is efficient but there is no quality beer) and have to listen to the lorries on the motorway, which is at the end of the car park.

The bedroom is typically Novotel – and we have far more space. And we had got a very favourable rate when we booked, making it no more expensive than the Ibises. The food in the restaurant is very disappointing and the menu confusing.

Chapter 10 - Caserta – Messina

Away even earlier this morning – 7.45am - and parked up by our hotel in Messina at 3.30pm.

Once south of Naples the roads are quieter with less lorries. But they are still in the process of turning a one lane in each direction single carriageway into an “autostrada”, and we keep encountering road works. As we get further south the scenery improves as we go through mountains and round cliffs. The ingenuity of the Italian engineering is fascinating. We travel through tunnels that hardly seem necessary and an incredible viaduct that has been built to take the road round a mountain, so the legs are virtually on the beach, and the mountain is to our left but the road is separated from it by a few metres.

We arrive in Villa San Giovanni, which is a small town, whose only “raison d’etre” is a mooring for hoards of ferryboats, which plough their ways to and from Messina in Sicily.

You pick your boat; buy a ticket, then drive straight into the floating car park. There doesn’t appear to be a timetable. They leave when they are full. The journey takes about half an hour. The doors open and off you drive. We park up to ask directions to the Jolly Hotel, where we are staying. We know it is on the sea front but is it left or right. It is left, and we soon see it, but its on a one way street, and we have to go past it on the next road parallel, take a left, and well after going past it several times, we get there, despite the best efforts of the chaotic traffic to thwart us by following the local habit of ignoring road signs. The car park is small but we manage to get in. And the hotel is in a good location to have an explore on foot, which after the last 3 nights is really good news.

It is our most expensive booking, and you can tell as soon as you walk in. Our room is not as big as at the Novotel, but is more ornate, and it overlooks the sea, rather than a hotel car park, a motorway or a supermarket.

We take an afternoon stroll along the seafront, into the outskirts of the town centre, and have a pavement beer outside what seems to be coffee shop/ice cream parlour/lotto office and a bar. It just has no obvious indication it sells alcohol, other than we see people drinking beer. However we are offered several different beers. One wasfrom a brewery called Ceres, which I discover later was Danish and a “Strong Ale”. We opt for “Messina” which according to the bottle is from Milan. Anyway it is refreshing, a pleasant accompaniment to watching the madness that inflicts the average Italian when given a car to drive. And we paid just 1 euro for 2 beers.

As we are in civilisation tonight, we can avoid hotel restaurant food, which looked to be even more important to do when a coach full of Americans arrive just as we are returning from our afternoon stroll and beer.

We eat at an outside table overlooking the sea, at a restaurant in the next block to the hotel. It is not exceptional, but is a welcome break from hotel food. Again we struggled to order sensibly from the Menu. It’s not the language; it’s just that we don’t seem to be able to order a starter and a main course properly. Today was ok until they brought us a plate of chips after we had had what we had ordered as a main, and with which we wanted the chips. And they had not made a mistake; they were waiting for us to finish, so they could bring the chips which was all we had ordered as a main course after anti pasta and pasta!. You see at our Italian restaurant in Deeping, he serves Italian potatoes with your pasta or pizza. Oh well, its Malta tomorrow.

Chapter 11 - Messina – Pozzallo

It is only 140 miles to Pozzallo, but most is on single carriageway roads with one lane each way, with either impatient madmen driving where ever there is half a cars width to pass through or the type of drivers who seem to inhabit country roads on Sunday afternoons in England. We, of course set out early, and arrive at the port of Pozzallo very early, but that won’t matter as there will be a café, a shop and there will be plenty to do!

And so we arrive where I started this tale. There is a ferry, but there is a locked gate between us and it. And there is a total lack of information. Are we in the right place, does it leave at 3pm? But I have already told you the next bit and the cross Europe car journey is complete.

We could have done it quicker, but it would have been more stressful. Would we do it again? Ask me in a couple of years when the memory of the Italian driving has dulled somewhat. However the scenery on the roads along the Mediterranean coast made it an experience we will remember and would have not wanted to miss just to avoid dicing with the traffic.And it will provide lots of stories to bore our friends with!