Data Protection

So it's the holidays. One good thing, I woke up at my very own body clock leisure and not at the seven screaming alarms which I never fail to never hear. And I could just stay motionless there for a vital five minutes during which I try to remember where I am, what I am, and who I am. It's confusing sometimes, when it's all one mad rush. And so I should be so pleased to have a fortnight of holidays stretch in front of me. I should be very very pleased, and in a way, the no alarms thing does make me pleased, but and but and but, I am missing the little faces for whom, making the gigantic effort of getting up is all worth it. I am missing the enthusiastic little faces who ask, ask, ask about everything in the music world, and also about everything which has nothing to do with the music world. I am not missing the few big people who think that the sunnier it gets, the more they hate their job. They are just a handful, but it's wise to avoid them. But in all truth most of the big people do a very good job of it, and it must not be easy handling some 25 little faces for six hours a day. But they manage it, and they score a hundred marks in that. But if I were missing the big people, it would be easy; I would just call, email, text or whatever. But not the little people, because they are shrouded in this Data Protection Act policy. So am I, but I could waive it away. And while I understand that this policy is there to protect the little people as opposed to hiding them behind it, well sometimes it makes life, my life at least, so difficult. And while I understand, well, perhaps it is acting like rusty, sharp barbed wire and while the privacy is respected, the freedom is paying a price. Although, in a place like Malta, it is quite difficult for anybody's privacy to be respected, and it needn't be paying a private eye to do the work. Everybody is into everyone's business, and that might not be a good thing, but it still guarantees the same result, and for free. Add to this that sometimes little people themselves decide to have a good old cry and talk, and there, without asking comes the info which you might not even want to hear because it's so difficult to deal with. And then with the info, comes the dreaded, debilitating feeling of helplessness; that of wanting to do something and that of knowing you can do nothing at all. That's the Data Protection thing explained in a nutshell, at least, in the way of whoever explained it to me in the first place. And while the this Data Protection thing might have stemmed through noble and good reasons, well, you cannot deny that the road to hell is also paved with good intention slabs which are uneven, sharp, and a nightmare to walk on.