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We鈥檝e slept in the worlds creakiest bed, under the worlds coldest air con unit, and we鈥檙e ready for the day ahead. Breakfast is served in the dining room and once again there is no one around except for a semi-friendly housekeeper/cook/chambermaid who I will henceforth call Maria.

Today, we鈥檙e heading off to the capital city of Malta. Our local bus, the No 49, goes to Valletta and we鈥檝e studied the timetable. After last night, we鈥檙e prepared for a 20 minute wait, but we leave enough time to get to the bus stop five minutes early. Except, as we walk down that surprisingly busy main road, the No 49 sails past. It is 10 minutes early. We now have anywhere between a 50 minute to a 90 minute wait for the next one. We formulate a new plan. We will get the bus towards St Paul鈥檚 Bay, and then transfer onto a Valletta-bound bus. This bus is due in 15 minutes. We wait 15 minutes. 20 minutes. 30 minutes. There is no bus. We are not feeling any love for Malta at this point. What we are feeling is hot, sticky and dehydrated. And then our knight in shining armour turns up. Taking pity on a pair of stranded tourists, Alfred stops and asks if we鈥檙e going towards Buggiba. Is there a bus to Valletta there we ask? Then, yes Bugibba is perfect. I barely worry about whether this man is actually a serial killer or kidnapper, I鈥檓 just happy to be in an air-conditioned car. ...... (follow the instructions below for accessing the rest of this article).