You give me fever...

You may be wondering why I haven't posted anything for the past few days.

Well, here it is.

The past weeks have finally taken their toll. After a somewhat sleepless night, I woke up early Tuesday morning, right after coming back from the arduous trip to Belgium and the Netherlands feeling a bit oozy. Milly (my cocker spaniel) wasn't behaving as usual. That is, she was actually behaving for once. No running around and jumping on our bed.

She probably sensed I was not feeling well. I started dressing up and looked at the bright sunlight seeping through my semi closed window. How come was I feeling so cold when the temperature on my kitchen clock was 22 degrees?

I had a fever. 102 Farehneit to be precise. I rarely have fevers. The last time I had one was five years ago. And it was related to over exertion. As it is this time.

I'm not exactly a hypochondriac. I rarely go to the doctor. Only when I cannot stand my mum's continuous grumbling that I go. I find that a visit to the doctor is heaven when compared to one of mum's grumbling sprees.

But I had to go to the doctor, as I was not feeling well at all. It turns out I am a bit overtired and have a cold. Therefore, I had to stay in bed, the doctor said.

I immediately thought of my trip to Romania. I was supposed to leave for Bucharest tomorrow. I thought I had better try to rest and go.

By yesterday evening, I still had a fever. Robert (the Maltasong Boss) phoned. I have come to know Robert very well, to the point that I realised he was very worried. Without hesitations he told me that he was cancelling the trip to Romania, so that I could rest.

Robert is one of the best persons I have ever met. So considerate and so professional at the same time. Being a successful businessman he has been dedicating almost all of his time to this festival. Not everyone's piece of cake believe me. And he knows how to take a decision and stand by it. Not always an easy proposition.

So here I am, lying in bed, sipping Sprite and taking Panadols to keep my fever down. I am feeling much better now. Another two days, and I'll be as good as gold. Milly is already starting to misbehave again. So I must be getting better. 'Stop it Milly!' I shout at her as she bounces on my laptop and deletes a whole paragraph from my blog! :)

Speak to you tomorrow! :) Olivia

My one and only...

My one and only is black...solid black. Not more than 8 months of age. Her favourite treat is a sizeable bone which she gets every week if she behaves. Her name is Milly Lewis and she's my little lovely dog friend.

I've had Milly since she was just a little black cocker spaniel, the size of my hand. Her parents are English but she was born in Malta. When I visited George Cross, the owner of her parents, I had to choose my dog from a bunch of four little rascals, running around his little flat. Milly was the one hiding in the corner, almost subdued. For some reason or another I felt attached to her from the first minute my eyes met hers. 'That puppy looks nice' I said to myself, 'she seems quiet and composed'. So I took her.

I have now learnt that she is neither quiet nor composed!

The next day I woke up and as I walked towards the kitchen, I found the remains of what a hurricane would do to a room. The kitchen was a complete mess. She managed to eat my cable television remote control together with anything which came her way.

Notwithstanding her naughtiness, I do not regret a single second of having her in my life. Milly is as loving as any human being could be. She sleeps on my pillow and wakes me up in the morning with her kisses. When I'm sad she snuggles on my lap and comforts me as best as she can. When I'm happy, she scampers around and fills my home with joy. Her love is plentiful...and unconditional.

This is my kitchen. It is usually a big mess. But I had to make it look decent in order to show it around the world. The most important part of my kitchen is the fridge, which I try to keep as stocked as possible. I like having friends over, especially on Sunday.

I do not cook. The last time I cooked, not even Milly would taste it. She knows better. So I let others do the cooking while I do the washing up. Eventually.


I have to go as my one and only is barking her head off. She wants to go to sleep. And she never sleeps before I do. Goodnight darling Milly. :)

Speak to you tomorrow!

My dress sense...or lack of it :)

I was never too good at choosing clothes. Don't get me wrong. I like wearing trendy outfits and all that. But I'm simply not too good at recognizing what's trendy and what's not. I realised this at my own expense after a number of wardrobe fiascos. And this is precisely why I never choose my clothes on my own anymore, especially if it is for something important.

I had to wake up early today as I had lots of errands planned. A quick shower is followed by choosing a track suit for the day. I love casual wear. It makes me feel comfortable. I'm also not that fussy on brands and stuff. If I like it I usually wear it. Today's track suit was no exception. Nothing too trendy. I actually bought it from a hawker at the Rabat 'monti', which is a sort of open market.

I look at my watch. 9:30am. Off to the supermarket to replenish my empty fridge. As I get into the car, I hear my dog in the background barking in protest at my leaving her alone at home. These protests usually end up with her making a big mess.

I just have to grin and bear it in the circumstances.

I love buying groceries. Especially when there is a lot of choice. The problem is that it is a waste of time which I do not really afford at the moment. With three heavy bags of shopping I leave the super market and head off to Joseph Bonello, my tailor.

Joseph is one of the persons who made a big difference in my life. He has been doing my show dresses for the past four years. I've always liked his work. And he spends hours working on minor details. which make the end product look good.

Shasha, my personal stylist joins us. Shasha is my biggest friend. She's been doing my make up everyday for the past four years. Totally committed and professional. These are the only words I have to say about her.

Joseph Bonello (the tailor) is busy working on my Eurovision dress. It is coming out beatifully. The colours are great and the material is so nice. The material itself (provided by local firm 'Ivory & Co') is designed by Roberto Cavalli. Joseph does not utter a word. He is totally engulfed in this dress. He has dreamt of doing it for a long time and now that he is actually on the job he wants everything to look perfect.

Tomorrow I might have the first fitting. Hope that all goes well. I'm losing weight right now due to a new fitness programme. Both Shasha and Joseph are worried that I might lose too much weight. I'm not that worried myself. It's never happened before.

As I prepare to leave, my mobile phone rings. It's Gerard James Borg (Vertigo's author), as excited as ever, phoning to check how the dress is coming up. He was also involved in its design with Shasha, Joseph (the tailor) and Joseph from Toni and Guy.

Thank God that my dress sense does not qualify me to suggest any sort of dress design. At least that problem is being taken care of by others. I just wear it.

Have to go as I'm going to be late for a choreography meeting.

Speak to you tomorrow. :)

Ol

Somewhere, beyond the sea...

I have just realised that I could never marry 'Popeye', Olivia need not worry.

I was always aware that I am no sailor, but yesterday's evening's experience on the sea was terrible. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick again.

I've had a busy weekend going all over Malta for this and that. Saturday evening was planned to end in Gozo, Malta's sister island. I had been invited to sing at a charity event.

I love Gozo. It is so peaceful and unspoilt. The Gozitans are lovely to be with and I have always dreamt of spending my last days on this heavenly island.

Places like 'Dwejra' (shown in photo), 'Xlendi', the 'Ta' Pinu' Church and loads of others make Gozo a must visit place for anyone coming to Malta.

However, yesterday's trip to Gozo was not as pleasurable as I thought it would have been. The sea was quite rough and for some reason or another I experienced my first real bout of sea-sickness.

Now those of you who have travelled to Gozo know that it is just a short 20 minute ferry trip away. So don't think I went through the Perfect Storm or anything similar. But believe me...I found myself praying for land and for something solid beneath my feet.

I have thus concluded that I was never meant to be a sailor and I probably would never have married Popeye.

Thank God that I can reach Helsinki by plane! :)

Speak to you again tomorrow...