1 May 2025, Thursday
We celebrated International Workers’ Day by not doing any work, which is what workers are supposed to do, but we are pensioners. For the sake of balance, I hope the workers will mark International Pensioners’ Day by not doing what we normally do. Will they manage without endless cups of coffee, pottering about aimlessly, singing along to old Serbian drinking songs at the tops of their voices and forgetting to zip their flies up?
Our dentist and dog groomer (two separate people) didn’t have a day off work. Priyatelkata and Gaïa the Shih Tzu, spent the morning with them respectively.
2 May 2025, Friday
What sort of people vote for this foetid Farage fiend? Apparently, their numbers swelled overnight, rather like Yersinia Pestis. I don’t think I’ve ever met one but I carry a bottle of Domestos with me at all times, just in case. Overnight they became particularly prevalent in Runcorn, a town I’ve never visited and now I’m sure I never will.
With her torso recently shorn, it was easier to identify and treat Gaïa’s ailments which included two broken teeth and a blocked anal gland. The vet suggested not letting her go on lasses’ nights out in Wakefield from now on.
3 May 2025, Saturday
As a week and a day had passed since Municipality Mustafa said he’d come at 5:00 p.m. to cut the grass in our field, we could only assume that his failure to appear was down to him having had his lips to the rakia bottle in celebration of Leeds United being crowned EFL Champions. Or maybe he’d already had a drop when he agreed to do the job and then, whilst waiting for the Alka Seltzer to kick in the following morning, the enormity of the task hit him. Who hasn’t said things whilst slightly tipsy that they’ve regretted later?
4 May 2025, Sunday
Balkan Holidays UK, a major British tour operator specializing in holidays to Bulgaria, announced that it has halted all its operations with immediate effect, resulting in the cancellation of every future booking. They’ve been doing cheap seaside holidays here since 1966. They say Europe’s unstable political climate is a major contributing factor behind their decision. I think this means they’ve realised we don’t want half a million tanked-up Reform UK voters weeing on our beaches every year. And mines from Ukraine occasionally floating about in the Black Sea probably take the edge off a stroll along the prom prom prom.
5 May 2025, Monday
Morning sun shone bright on Malki Chiflik and I bought locally produced wine and coriander honey from the hippy chick up the hill. Dr Khrushchev said it’ll be ages before I die but, because I’ve a few years on him, I’ll be gone first.
Thunderstorms blighted the afternoon but YouTube let me watch live coverage of Glory Glory Leeds United’s open-top bus parade round Leeds city centre. More than three million filled the streets to cheer them. Everybody was there… Putin, Trump, Macron, Bono, Bobby Davro, Penelope Keith, my mate Dave, etc. A right old lump in the throat experience!
6 May 2025, Tuesday
Ederlezi, originally the Roma people’s day for rejoicing summer’s arrival, is called St George’s Day in more modern times. The custom is to eat lamb, drink beer and celebrate the work of the armed forces, but all of these contradict our way of life.
Courtesy of Facebook, we found Nikolay and Plamen to wage war on our triffid field. Likeable fellas who we renamed the Strimmer Twins. Things were going so well until mechanical failure hit. They needed duct tape for repairs but the shops were shut because of St George. Our comeuppance perhaps for being pinko pacifist party poopers.
7 May 2025, Wednesday
Having fasted overnight we went early for annual blood tests. The laboratory was a friendly place but we wished we’d taken lamb and beer with us.
The Strimmer Twins arrived with fully operational kit to complete our garden work for a price that had increased since the previous day. We gave them more than they asked for, which caused confusion.
Whilst visiting Glaswegian friends in Momin Sbor (Момин Сбор, meaning ‘young maidens’ gathering place’) we noticed a previously unnoticed beautiful stone cheshma (чешма, meaning ‘old Turkish drinking fountain’). A carved inscription said ‘Built in April 2025.’ Unbelievably, Glaswegian Brian isn’t a young maiden.
8 May 2025, Thursday
Habemus Papam! Olé! Olé!
At primary school in Middlesbrough, Sister Josephine told our entire class that if we were all good wee Catholics and we sent money away for the black babies, then one day any one of us could become the Pope.
At grammar school in Ireland the Reverend Robinson (a Presbyterian) taught us Latin, which I considered another step on my route to becoming the Roman Pontiff.
This evening a cardinal announced that they’d given the gig to a Chicago gadgey.
We had a night of thunder and lightning but no rain. Surely the wrath of Sister Josephine!
9 May 2025, Friday
With Ederlezi still on her mind, Priyatelkata bled sap from small branches on our fig trees which she simmered with goat’s milk and thyme to make a creamy kefir like the Roma people do. On boiled rice it was delicious. Stolen from the bowl in the fridge by means of dipping and licking a finger, it was magnificent.
I worked long hours beautifying garden parts too delicate for the Strimmer Twins to be trusted with. Sitting on the bench in a state of absolute exhaustion I felt that I was going in the opposite direction to the nature around me.
10 May 2025, Saturday
Long ago, I earned a living in an old pub in central Leeds where one of my responsibilities was to collect glasses from tables. Today we collected glasses in an establishment called Stanislav’s Specs Shop where we paid them a fortune. It rained all day so we regretted not having asked for those frames with the windscreen wipers like Elton John’s.
The weather forced us into the nearby Syrian restaurant where they serve the best homemade pizzas in Bulgaria. I had the albino Iranian beluga sturgeon topping while Priyatelkata went for the white Alba truffles… with beans, chips and tea.
11 May 2025, Sunday
A cherry tree was covered with hundreds of eastern tent caterpillars that had munched away half of the leaves in twenty-four hours. Priyatelkata consulted her big book of deadly potions. Soon after her garlic and elder brew had been sprayed on, they plummeted to the ground where hungry birds feasted on their marinated carcasses.
We thought our tickets for the East European ethnic dancing show at the Palace of Culture were for this evening but on arrival we found a deserted venue and news that the event was scheduled for 5 November. Thank you USA for your ridiculous date formatting.
12 May 2025, Monday
During breakfast we saw two Eurasian golden orioles hopping about in a walnut tree. Some years we’ve had as many as eight visiting us. They come for the Rice Krispies.
Doctor Kruschev said my ultrasound scan showed all my internal organs to be the correct size and in the right place but blood test results indicated uric acid accumulations (gout) and Lyme disease. A strict diet and a trip to the disease lady at the polyclinic were recommended.
During our evening meal two storks flew low over our garden. They didn’t stop because they didn’t see anything worthwhile to eat.
13 May 2025, Tuesday
Priyatelkata endured the first round of treatment that would, on completion, give her a smile like American pianist and singer, Liberace. This afternoon, however, she had a smile like Irish pianist and singer, Shane MacGowan. I told her this and she laughed until the anaesthetic wore off. Sensitivity was such that food and drink were off her agenda.
On the other hand, 99% of my teeth remained intact so I could have eaten, but my rigorous good health regime dictated that I could only eat things that weren’t very nice, so I wondered what was the point of having teeth.
14 May 2025, Wednesday
Early morning, I found Penka, our beautiful young cat, dead on the roadside. Wrapping her bloodied body in a bedsheet to bury in our wild garden where she used to play was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.
Heartbroken, we went to have summer tyres put on the car, seeing another dead cat on the dual carriageway en route. Desislava, the tyre centre owner, proudly introduced her cat’s three kittens playing outside her office. In the café next door, friends showed us photographs of all their pets, past and present.
We hardly spoke. A horrible day.
15 May 2025, Thursday
I’ve probably met many disease ladies but the one I saw at the polyclinic today had qualifications in diseases. Discussing symptoms that I’d presumed to be merely age related, she confirmed I had Lyme disease. The good news was that carrying a heavy bag of prescribed antibiotic and probiotic tablets home was the exercise I needed to help me with other health issues. The bad news was that I should only do moderate exercise while this Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, the worst of the symptoms, afflicted me.
Despite such intense tiredness, fretting over our dearly departed cat prevented me from sleeping.
16 May 2025, Friday
Priyatelkata still suffered from oral sensitivity and bruising following Tuesday’s dental work. I cancelled my hiking trip in the Pirin mountains for health reasons, even though the end point would have been one of Europe’s healthiest places to be; the challenge having changed from avoiding falling off to avoiding nodding off. The weather, although sunny, was unseasonably chilly. The only comforting (i.e. stodgy) comfort food within the restrictions of our low-fat diet was boiled rice.
Aided by outdoor chairs, tables, umbrellas and a sweeping brush recovered from the darkest recesses of the shed, I prepared our sun terrace for summer.
17 May 2025, Saturday
It rained deluginous rain all day. I lay on the bed with Boris the ever-present friendly cat, a bucket containing 15,432.4 grains (i.e. a kilogram) of boiled rice, my antibiotics collection which rendered my rakia collection out of bounds, and a pile of scratchy old vinyl LPs. When I find myself in times of trouble, Ian Dury comes to me.
Bulgaria, Ireland, Leeds United and Dana were all absent from both the FA Cup Final and the Eurovision Song Contest so I watched neither. БНТ (Bulgarian National Television) coverage of the Goat Show live from Plovdiv proved an absolutely scintillating alternative.
18 May 2025, Sunday
Reminding ourselves that where phones lose range, peace of mind begins, we drove beyond the sleepy village of Dobromirka to escape what this horrible week had given us. Looking across the lake from the dam at Gorsko Kosovo, we saw only forested hills and cliffs beneath a cloudless Balkan sky. Spring flowers added myriad flecks of bright colour to greens and blues as insects buzzed and birds sang. Bulgaria’s mountains, it seemed, absorbed our sadness to keep with the centuries of sadness of their own. Nothing else could ever lift our mood so, or make us feel more at home.
19 May 2025, Monday
We’d been worried about scabby, weeping sores that, despite an assortment of treatment methods, just wouldn’t heal. It was a slight relief to know they were attached to a cat and not to us, but not much fun for poor old Ludo.
Tired of our usual vets looking flummoxed and scratching their heads as much as the cat scratches his arse, we sought a second opinion. Dr Djambova, with her pinky-purple hair, was lovely. If ever I have scabby, weeping sores of my own I’ll head straight for her. She seemed to know what she was doing with Ludo too.
20 May 2025, Tuesday
Admitting we have two hoovers might raise suggestions that we’re bourgeois. In our defence I’d say that neither bear the brand name Hoover and both are essential weapons in our struggle to maintain our dominant species status.
The heavy duty yellow one can suck up a dog hair from 100 metres but it’s cumbersome and takes longer to empty than to fill. The little red one removes poor dismembered lizards from the kitchen floor within seconds of a cat attack, but recently the battery’s been in a poorer state of health than the lizards.
Today we celebrated a new battery.
21 May 2025, Wednesday
I’m glad my disease will soon be gone because the main symptom is my inability to concentrate and it’s fair mucking up my life. Finding the right words in a conversation is a struggle, and this 100 words per day journal has become the limit of my writing capabilities.
I’ve no physical discomfort but the constant fatigue and feeling of uselessness gnaw at my mind like a tick at a fleshy human thigh.
I put down my pad and pencil briefly to think of fleshy human thighs but I’d forgotten what they looked like so I returned to the scribblings.
22 May 2025, Thursday
The neighbours think we’re funny
Say we’re spending too much money
On fresh yoghurt and best honey
It’s the reason we are lardy
No shortage of fresh air
So much sunshine we could spare
Not a care what clothes we wear
We’re as tough as boots and hardy
No need to set alarm clocks
Woken daily by the farm cocks
Doing well this pair of old crocks
Though slightly going bats
In our garden full of bees
We’re creaking at the knees
Slyly hugging shrubs and trees
And still got seven cats
Reasons to be cheerful
For her and me
23 May 2025, Friday
A day of virtually nonstop thunder and lightning, but no rain. We felt anxious and lucky in equal measure as other parts of the country suffered bombardment from destructive tennis ball hailstones. Our wounds from last summer hadn’t fully healed.
We’ve often envied other villages where storks nest at the tops of electricity poles but this year we have our own, just near the bus stop in the square. They must be daft in the head to go perching themselves up there all unprotected with the wild weather that’s on the cards. Sometimes it’s hard to tell stork from nutter.
24 May 2025, Saturday
Plans for a picnic in the hills were shelved because of a scary weather forecast. No scary weather arrived until early evening and it wasn’t really that scary, just very wet. So we could have gone on our trip, though we probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it because we’d have been scared of the potential arrival of scary weather. In the big mountains in the south of the country it snowed but we spent our day working in our garden without fear of anything. A little lunchtime thunder prompted us to eat our picnic in the safe environment of the kitchen.
25 May 2025, Sunday
I had Elmore James’ song, The Sky is Crying in my head as it rained heavily every single minute of the day, plus a few hours at the other sides of the two midnights.
I considered writing a follow up and calling it The Soil is Drinking. Bulgaria needs all the rain it can get as digging a hole to plant a shrub requires a hammer and chisel, and weekend outings to picturesque reservoirs have a hide and seek feel to them.
Instead I sat around listening to Elmore James and drinking healthy stuff that typically didn’t taste very nice.
26 May 2025, Monday
A tale of two local waterfalls, at Hotnitsa and Dryanovski. The former was the bigger but it didn’t involve much of a walk. Reaching the latter involved a wee hike through the ancient monastery, over an iron footbridge, up a lane, past a notable site from the War of Independence, into a forest and then onto an old stone bridge which was the perfect spot for observing powerful gushes. We both had one! Returning to the car was the same in reverse but with the addition of powerful coffee outside a rustic and cat-infested café by the powerfully flowing river.
27 May 2025, Tuesday
A man on the Yantra Today news website commented that he didn’t care about reservoir water levels because we’d all surely die of misery long before we died of thirst. The rain had stopped around 8:00 a.m., so I’d been feeling quite chipper until I read that. Then I began to agree with him when a tour of the garden revealed I had another disease to contend with. Three of my hardy lavender plants had been attacked by alfalfa mosaic virus.
Jollity returned as we walked over the old wooden Vladishki Most (Владишки мост, meaning ‘Bishop’s Bridge’) to admire the swollen river.
28 May 2025, Wednesday
Moving at the velocity of a slug with a limp, I descended the stairs at some sort of breakfast time, not knowing why. The tick disease plays havoc with my sleep pattern so I’m only fully awake between the hours of midnight and 6:00 a.m. It’s then I listen to Romanian Jazz played quietly, hoping for the lullaby effect. In the dark I wonder what’s spinning but by keeping a light on low I see it’s the whole room. The meter of Aura Urziceanu’s scat singing blends well with the vertigo’s motion in my head. She’s my Bucharesti night nurse.
29 May 2025, Thursday
Summer’s near and the time is right for biting between the sheets, sang Miroslava Reeves, Martha’s Bulgarian cousin.
Last night marked the kick-off of the new mosquito season. Despite having a slender segmented body, long legs, and specialized piercing-sucking mouthparts, no creature (with the possible exception of a hippopotamus) could be less welcome in my sleeping quarters than one of these parasitic little sleeveens.
The nocturnal whine of their wings is as damaging mentally as their sanguivorousness is physically. It’s almost as bad as snoring. A mosquito falls silent when its belly’s full but a snorer is quite the opposite.
30 May 2025, Friday
57% of Bulgarians want to keep the lev as our unit of currency. Politicians have suggested a referendum to decide, but Mistress Brussels said we can’t do that because it would slow down the process for introducing the euro next January. So now they’re talking about having a referendum to decide whether or not we want a referendum.
The Finance Ministry has estimated there are 30 billion unbanked leva (£13 billion) floating about. That’s a lot of stuffed mattresses! To convert them to euro they must be banked but that’ll make them taxable. I’m glad I’m not burdened with wealth.
31 May 2025, Saturday
We’d always considered Samovodene as little more than a few houses either side of the E85 Romania-Turkey trunk road, and a place to buy half-dead live fish. Today we explored back streets to find architectural gems, beautiful gardens, statues of revolutionaries, a brilliant family-run market garden shop and outstanding views of the Danubian Plain.
Afternoon wrestles with garden mud were essential for the survival of newly purchased plants but the sun shone and the birds sang… so we shone and sang too! It had been a rubbish month but we thought we’d try another one, just to see. Tomorrow perhaps.
Photograph: One of the Malki Chiflik storks being exquisitely tame.
This Sort of Thing - June 2025
Marlene Dietrich’s Gappy Teeth