10th October 2011

t first, while the UK basked in a record heatwave, Ritya was a more comfortable 3–4 degrees cooler. As Britain has returned to its seasonal norm, the temperature in Bulgaria plummeted, and the rain hasn’t stopped for two days. All work on the house has shifted indoors, and our Turkish wall-builders have failed to show up, presumably deciding that £11 a day wasn’t worth getting wet, muddy, and cold. Ironically, if they had turned up, we would have put them to work inside, sanding ceiling beams in the dry.

With the rain hammering down, I turned my attention to David’s broken Sony Vaio. Two hours later, it was fixed, and I promptly commandeered it for my personal use during my stay. I installed the necessary software to keep in touch with the outside world and downloaded Microsoft Office, all very legitimate, of course.

The plaster is now dry, and the toxic pong from the woodworm treatment of last week has mostly faded, so work resumed on the downstairs rooms. A large can of white masonry paint has been put to good use; in the last two days, we’ve finished one bedroom and the toilet/shower room. One particularly long day saw us starting at 7.30 am (to let the no-show Turks in) and not stopping until 4 am the following morning, with only a soggy drive to Veliko Tarnovo for supplies as a break.

Later in the week, while replenishing our dwindling beer stocks at the local supermarket in Dryanovo, we chatted to one of David’s neighbours and his friend. Suddenly, the road was sealed off by police. Twenty minutes later, a cavalcade of cars swept past, carrying the President of Brazil from Sofia to Veliko Tarnovo. Later, while we were en route to the old capital for building supplies, we speculated whether we would meet him in Practika or Metro. We didn’t and assumed he wasn’t into DIY.

At Practika, we priced up garden drainage pipes but left them for now. David claims his Bulgarian is limited, but I’ve yet to see a situation where he can’t make himself understood. I’m impressed. We stocked up on woodworm treatment, wood stain, and cutting tools before heading to Metro to replenish the fridge. Just to make sure the checkout girl didn’t mistake us for a couple shopping for a romantic evening, we topped the trolley with a lump hammer and twelve 2.5-litre bottles of beer. Excessive? Perhaps. But we viewed it as a challenge. On the drive back, we forgot to stop by the Turkish sector of Dryanovo to tell Ali and his friend to turn up for work, not that it would have made much difference.

There are no clocks in the house, and when David lost his mobile phone in week one, he relied on me to wake him with my phone alarm at 7.30 am. Trouble is, he can’t hear it from his room, so I have to physically shake him awake before he goes to open the gate for the Turks at 8 am (if they appear). This, of course, ruins any chance of a lie-in.

On the rugby front, I’d resigned myself to having no live TV coverage of the World Cup, so I set up the Sony Vaio (excellent sound) to stream audio via TuneIn radio. I listened to Wales v Ireland, then, to burn off pre-match nerves before England v France, I felled half a dozen trees in the field. I returned just as the match kicked off, only to hear France rack up two penalties and a try in quick succession. I silently picked up the chainsaw and headed back outside. David took one look and wisely didn’t ask questions.

Another dozen trees fell before I returned for the second half, just in time to hear France score again. England’s late try briefly raised hopes, but as the game fizzled out, I went back to the chainsaw. This time David didn’t even glance up from his strimming. Vengeance was wreaked on the most French-looking trees I could find, leaving the field closely resembling the field of Agincourt.

It was while I was sitting on a stump letting the chainsaw cool down, my mobile buzzed. It was a text from Jim Hankers, sunning himself in Cyprus: “England lost, will have to support Wales now.” That one message cost me 50p to receive. Just as well he was 1,500 miles away, or Brigitte might be married to a one-legged man by now.