Hobz biz-zejt

I am no summer fan. Ok that sounds weird because we take out fans in summer to help us cool down. But you know what I mean. I just don't like the sticky people, the ones who smell so bad that they make you think they are onion fans. I don't like all of that. I also don't like the fact very few cosmetic manufacturers have thought of Malta and it's humid climate and produced waterproof makeup. But then of course summer is one long ball of holidays, so I cannot really complain. Although a month has already passed by in a flash and I've only got two more months to go. Still I cannot complain. But summer has me in cravings. And no I have not been knocked up yet. Nothing in the oven, it's too hot for the oven anyway. And lately I have been dreaming of hobz biz-zejt, I am trying to find a decent translation for that, but I can come up with none which describes it in all its mouth watering glory. Bread with oil? Oily bread? That's just shit in comparison. But I am craving this hobz biz-zejt with a vengeance. And there isn't one restaurant which offers it. Because I am not very good at DIY. And I crave more than that. I'm going down memory lane and remembering the summer nights spent as a tearaway, thinking that a small piece of rock could be the world's most fabulous game. I want that again, but it's all about Play stations now. Only one thing for it, I'll have to do it myself, sit on a porch and have my hobz biz-zejt. Childhood memories are just that; memories. But I'll substitute the longing with some Joe Demicoli. That'll do the trick to a T. And it will feel as if I've died and gone to heaven. Will post back.