The sermon from the dinner table

I have no idea how many times I penned the opening of this opinion column only to suddenly tap violently on the delete button and start all over again. 

I am not quite sure what 2025 was all about. I guess we all live in our little bubble and for some of us life is full of starts and stops with health and tragedies unexpectedly taking over.

It could be a superficial measurement, but I really want to base this contribution on what I heard or overheard and discussed at dinners and lunches over the past days.

No matter how Maltese and insular we are, I really think that the individual who hit top of the charts in mentions was Donald Trump. 

Even at family suppers, Donald always surfaced, and it was hard not using expletives every time his name cropped up.   Our admiration for the US and Americans dipped to a new low. It gets worse if there is a Canadian Maltese around us.

Then it was Gaza, and our helplessness as we watched the slaughter and eradication of a people, the Palestinians.  The dangling arms of a child in the arms of a distraught father covered in blood was something I could not watch anymore.

The general sentiment with Maltese is that Israelis, or rather their leaders, are fascists but uttering that beyond our shores would brand us antisemitic. In the confines of our homes or office space, describing Israel’s actions as cruel and brutal struck a very common chord.

Foreign affairs is not usually the centre of discussion at a dinner table, but Trump and Gaza retained high ratings in 2025.

When it comes to the domestic scene, runner up in mentions was Alex Borg the new leader of the Nationalist Party.  The choice of words reserved for describing the 30-year-old were guarded. 

“He is far too young.”

“He has no political experience.”

“A kannoll bla krema.”

“What does he stand for?”

And though it would be deemed politically incorrect to refer to looks, there were words of approval for his partner, Sarah.

Yet everyone seemed to agree that a new face was needed for the PN and that Bernard Grech was a non-starter. And that the country needed an Opposition.

A common gripe was the building frenzy all over the island. Perhaps a common and very justified grievance. Everyone seems to be suffering from a severe bout of claustrophobia and wants more open space, less anarchy in our towns and villages.  And as is to be expected in the eyes of the dinner guests the culprits in this case, were the big boys who build relentlessly and the government itself.

People, even those with Labour tendencies, were getting very uncomfortable with the Labour leadership.

A common thread—people had given up and were repeating the chant that they had voted for Labour and would not vote again.   People were switching off from politics and unwilling to engage.

I also had the impression that many people had no interest or motivation to read long stories although some would mention an article that caught their eye. And many did not want to know about domestic politics.

Most of the time, to my chagrin, the number of people who read was getting smaller and smaller. Most people were glued to their smart phones, and it was refreshing to meet someone who did not have a Facebook page or Instagram account.

And probably because my immediate milieu consisted of politically motivated personalities, a dissection of sorts of the political surveys published by MaltaToday outshone all the dirty jokes at table.

Across the board, there was consensus that food prices had skyrocketed and that eating out in restaurants had become prohibitive.  But no one, it seems, was complaining of a slow down.

There was a feeling that nothing would change. Robert Abela would win the next general election and that (sadly) Joseph Muscat would not be convicted.

Many, and by many I mean many, said they would not vote.

Everyone I met was planning a holiday abroad, one, two and even three. Though there were some who said they would prefer to stay put and avoid the stress of travelling. 

Often, the discussion was about the good food, the excellent wine, the labrador that puked on the carpet, the time the children spend on their smart phone, the assessments at schools, the university lecturers who did not turn up, the wrong medical diagnosis, the friends who were separating, the last holiday, the new electric car and the limited series on Netflix.

Revolution and changing the world, it seemed, were not making the rounds at the dinner table.

In my case, the end of year meant catching up with my reading of the autobiography of Boris Johnson, helping with a Lego assembly of the Eiffel Tower, cutting the last oranges in the garden, trying out the 2010 Marnisi and nibbling on the deboned olives coated in red pepper.

I did promise myself one selfish thing: Less bread and pasta for 2026 and a target to lose 12kg.

A healthy year to all!