In Malta, you can’t even crash a Segway without being given a history lesson. We’d travelled to Golden Bay – the most developed of a trio of sandy beaches on the north-west coast – in search of a family adventure on two wheels, and after a quick briefing in a car park from an enthusiastic chap called Jean Karl, had all bumbled off down a rough track.
I had been quietly impressed – one of those smug “how great is my family?” moments – by how quickly our two sons, aged 14 and 12, got to grips with all the off-road gyroscopic chicanery, when the inevitable happened and the younger one hit a pothole at speed.
He was soon lying on the ground bleeding copiously from his elbow, while the still enthusiastic Jean Karl set about him with bandages and antiseptic wipes.
Clive, our guide, immediately saw his opportunity and took me by my own elbow (which was mercifully unscathed) to point out a group of limestone buildings rising golden in the sun.
“Old barracks, from when the British governed Malta,” he told me, before spinning me round. “And that is the Ghajn Tuffieha Tower,” he said, gesturing to the southern tip of the bay. “Built in the 17th century by the Knights of St John, to signal a pirate attack.”
