A Storm Brewing and the Great Flood in Malta

That morning I sensed a storm brewing in Sliema.

You could tell there was a storm brewing.


I woke up and looked out onto The Strand, I saw nothing but grey and dull violet skies that changed quickly into a thick mist over the bay, and the waves were more choppy than usual. 


The thunder confirmed it, and the view of Valletta across the harbour looked weirdly illuminated by the bleak sky behind it.

As strikes of lightening scratched and scraped against the clouds, people began to run for cover.

A Good Storm

I secretly enjoy a good storm on holiday, just one or two days is enough – then back to some sunshine. 


On The Strand in Sliema, the sun would normally rise gloriously over Valletta each morning and hang around until early in the afternoon before moving its way behind and beyond, but not that morning, there was no sign of our golden friend, it was nowhere to be seen. 


I’d also noticed a hollow sound in the air, like a horn being blown slowly and steadily, there was no way of locating the sound, it seemed to float all around, all day long, mingling with the sound of nearby church bells.

Waking up to this, the sky said it all. Fast moving clouds and deep guttural rolls of thunder.

In the distance, a bleak grey horizon. A few hours later the wind picks up and raindrops begin to hit the ocean and the ground below.

This soon became the view in the distance, the storm was getting closer as the thunder claps got louder.

We’d had some gorgeous weather until that day, hot sunshine on all the right days so far. Today nothing was planned, a perfect day for the forecasted storm.

It’s not even 11am yet and all the cars have their headlights on, beaming brightly.

Street lamps are flicking on too  – it’s beginning to feel a lot like winter!

Perhaps an aimless bus ride to somewhere new today, or a wander around The Point shopping mall – perfect indoor activity for a stormy day.

Maybe a hotel day would be in order, sat enjoying the storm from the protection of a sheltered room balcony.

All the while, I spot a man in a small wooden rowing boat in full diving gear, adjusting his air canister before falling backwards into what must have been very cold sea water.

The diver doesn’t swim far, he re-emerges at the anchor of a larger boat before going under again. He must have had some important boat related task to perform – I guess someone had to do it!!.

Another Maltese Storm

Ironically, my thoughts turn to the political storm that had been brewing progressively before and during my visit to Malta, leading to pressures on the Prime Minister to step down.

There had been protests from Maltese citizens in Valletta surrounding this, only the previous week.

The Stormy Night Before

The previous night was also quite a ‘breezy’ one.

Small groups of birds, and then a flock of birds, a murmuration, swarmed over the harbour against the night sky.

At first I though they were drones, grey things moving in the air after dark – not something you expect to see.

It rained that night and whilst in bed the wind made some eerie sounds, a bit like the echo of distant howls and screams from people on a rollercoaster ride. 

The Great Flood

The great flood has returned and I kick myself for not bringing my wellies like I’d declared I would before the trip. 

In case you didn’t know, Malta is no stranger to floods following rainy weather.

Let’s see 🤔 we had puddles that looked like huge paddling pools and the roads looked like a major water main had burst.

…and there we have it, yet more fond memories of Malta.




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