Another excruciating ‘I remember him well’ touching tale
God, how embarrassing. “We’re sorry your tree died because of the war.”
“Eat as much as you like because you can’t get any fatter than you are already.”
What is this, a posthumous freak show?
———-
In The Times today:
In the summer of 1998, a few months after Dom Mintoff’s wife passed away, Krystyna-Maria Mikulanka saw a different side to her good friend, the former Prime Minister.
“I met him on the beach in Delimara,” recalled the honorary consul for Malta in Poland.
“I said to him, ‘Dom, I’m missing Moira’. He was sitting on the rocks looking into the distance and tears came to his eyes.
“He said: ‘I’m missing her too but I didn’t know that I was going to miss her so much.’ It was very touching to see that the strong man had a soft side,” said Ms Mikulanka.
She was in Malta over the weekend to attend Mr Mintoff’s state funeral, after he died last Monday night at his Tarxien home, aged 96. Ms Mikulanka was appointed honorary consul in 1994 and last year she was awarded the National Order of Merit for her work.
She got to know Mr Mintoff in 1971, the year he was re-elected Prime Minister. She was studying journalism and was on a visit to the island to film Poland’s first documentary on Malta.
The young journalist went to the Delimara beach, where she was told she would find him.
He was swimming. The sea was rough and he challenged her to get into the water. Although scared, she jumped in – a gesture that marked the beginning of their friendship.
He told her he wanted to set up diplomatic relations with Poland and he eventually did.
Since then Ms Mikulanka has travelled to Malta very often and was a regular guest at Mr Mintoff’s country house, L-Għarix, in Delimara. He often met important people there, believing that issues were better solved in an informal environment.
“Once there was a Libyan delegation who told him that Gaddafi wanted to come to Malta. It was before Labour lost the election.
“He said: ‘No – because it’s election time’,” she recalled. “He had guts.”
On another occasion the guest was the Apostolic Nuncio, the Vatican’s representative. He had been invited to lunch before an election and Mr Mintoff told him he did not want the Church to be involved in politics.
“Everyone went quiet. You could hear a fly,” she laughed.
She described Mr Mintoff as a charming man but who could “explode like a volcano”.
“In my opinion, whatever decision was taken was about his country – some people appreciated it, others didn’t – the country was always first and, unfortunately, the family was at the back,” she said.
The powerful man even brought her to tears. During lunch he once told her she could eat as much as she liked, as she could not be fatter than she already was. This upset her but, she smiled, “he was telling the truth.”
But he knew how to be sensitive too. One Christmas, in 1981, she had planned to bring a Christmas tree for the Mintoff family but the trip was cancelled because of martial law that imposed military restrictions on civilians.
Three years later, when she next came to Malta, Mr Mintoff and his wife told her: “We’re sorry your tree died because of the war.”
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I loved these lines:
“He was swimming. The sea was rough and he challenged her to get into the water. Although scared, she jumped in – a gesture that marked the beginning of their friendship.
He told her he wanted to set up diplomatic relations with Poland and he eventually did.”
[Daphne – And if she weren’t so fat, he’d have rogered her too. But maybe she wasn’t fat yet in 1971 and that accounts for his flirtatious challenge to a wet T-shirt competition.]
“Diplomatic relations with Poland”.
Is that like “Ugandan discussions”?
He wouldn’t have rogered you though an ugly bicth like you.
You dont even look like a woman more like a trans actualy like vladimir luxuria buhuhuahuahauha ugly twat
[Daphne – Yes, right. Actually, and I don’t expect you to understand this, I am EXACTLY the kind of women he would have gone for, and this for a wide variety of reasons that are apparently beyond your comprehension.]
Hahaha in your dreams……. who the hell wants to shag a women of your kind ( trid tkun vera bil ghatx dear oh and I dont expect you to understand this!
[Daphne – Quite a few people as it happens, but as I said, I wouldn’t expect a member of the underclass who is three decades my junior (or older and imbecilic) to know anything about that. Just as you wouldn’t know anything about the sort of woman that really got Dom Mintoff honking: not Labour chicks from the gutter with hair dyed blublek, gel nails and Spandex clothes, that’s for sure, though he might have rogered a few of those in a dull moment because they were giving it away for free and he could never resist a bargain.]
Daphne yes I am 30 decades your junior you got that right the underclass comment really shows the type of spineless person you are judging without even knowing my name lol and what makes you think im underclass?
[Daphne – I wonder.]
Bla Bla I’ll roger Daph. I think she’s very attractive and intelligent at least her brain is where it’s meant to be. Anyway your nickname says it all.
[Daphne – Oh for God’s sake.]
C attard lanqas int imxennaq ukoll ja laqi
Mr. Attard, you remind me of Loris Batacchi.
It would be interesting to know if she had been given the usual advance warning, please, to avoid out-swiming Dom if he challenged her to a race. It was a routine precaution. Life for Mintoff’s entourage would not have been worth living, otherwise, for the rest of the day.
Like when trotting at the Marsa ‘tal-Inglizi’ in his Errol Flynn style. He was always ahead, with others trailing behind including his faithful on a serkin.
They were all the same then.
Many, many years I used to work with a person was engaged to a close relative of Lorry Sant and would therefore get invited to his house.
This guest was a very good chess player and Lorry Sant always insisted on playing chess with him (with ivory pieces, if you please). Lorry Sant had no clue how the chess pieces moved and used to just move them around at random.
The guest was always warned biex “ihallih jerbah” because if he lost he would abuse all around him, including his wife Carmen and would beat the dog shitless. .
I remember this ex-colleague relating the humiliation he suffered every time he had allow Lorry Sant to win (more than anything the dog being beaten up). Each time Lorry would tell him “imbasta tghid li int bravu, erbahtlek ergajt”.
I have to say that E.L. James’s Fifty Shades of Grey is nothing compared to Mintoff’s sexual life.
You got that right!
One does indeed wonder about the credentials she possessed for the then PM to have appointed her Hon. Consul.
Must. Resist. Gag.
“She got to know Mr Mintoff in 1971, the year he was re-elected Prime Minister. She was studying journalism and was on a visit to the island to film Poland’s first documentary on Malta.”
How cute – an Eastern bloc ‘journalist’ reporting on an honorary Eastern bloc island.
Min jaf x’naqra ta’ dokumentarju faqa’ hareg, specjalment wara li s-Salvatur halliha taqbez tghum mieghu.
Why does everybody writing an appreciation of Mintoff seem to get their inspiration from Danielle Steele novels? The ogre with the soft heart.
I am so tempted to relate my only ten second direct encounter with Mintoff.
What hit you most – the sight or his smell?
These eulogies are quite something. Daphne, have you read Edward Scicluna’s? What a load of tosh, and he knows it. Seems the Mintoffian vote is still very important to prospective labour candidates.