29th October 2012

Like clockwork, one of the British homeowners arrived in the village on Saturday and, true to David’s prediction, the weather collapsed. It’s become something of a tradition: the moment they show up, the skies darken. Before their arrival, we had enjoyed golden sunsets, hot sunny days, and balmy starry nights. No sooner had they unpacked than the rain began, Saturday evening, Sunday morning, and again this afternoon, complete with clouds sulking at ground level.

Despite this soggy omen, progress continues. The pool is edging closer to completion, with concreting nearly finished, and on Friday, we at last tackled the dreaded walkway tiling. As seasoned workmen, we spent most of the first day in deep philosophical debate about how best to begin. By 4 p.m., we had drawn a promising straight line and nearly agreed on which way to face the tiles. Darkness rescued us from further commitment, and instead, we dug a hole in the barn for a new beam; at least holes don’t have to be level.

Saturday was dedicated to finding replacement tiles in Veliko Tarnovo. David triumphantly spotted eight near-matches outside a builder’s merchant, sadly closed. Our tour of DIY shops yielded little, apart from four nuts for the chainsaw, a jacket for Banjo, and the sight of David nearly buying a UPS for the central heating. We drove home empty-handed and in the dark, with Banjo smugly sporting the only successful purchase.

Sunday dawned with renewed determination. Tiles were laid out, mortar was mixed, and strategies were debated with military precision. Within an hour, we had broken two tiles and misaligned the rest. By lunch, we were despondent. By mid-afternoon, suicidal. At that exact moment, our British visitors popped in for a cheery “Hello.” Naturally, so did the rain, sparing us from further misery. We wisely abandoned tiling for the day and instead replaced chainsaw chains, which at least we could do without too much trouble.

Monday began at such an ungodly hour that neither of us reached the loo before work commenced. Out went precision; in came pragmatism. A sloppy mortar mix, one tile at a time, and a new definition of “crap” (“near enough”) worked wonders. The spirit level was ceremoniously retired. Viewed from the far side of the garden, or better, from another village, the tiles looked almost professional. By lunchtime (a 10-egg omelette), we had something resembling a walkway. By afternoon, the rain was back, Milen popped in for a chat, and further progress was drowned in Bulgarian drizzle.

Who says tiling is difficult? All it requires is low standards, creative language, and the ability to squint at your handiwork.

The concreting saga continues, with occasional market trips for “essentials.” David returned from Dryanovo with three pairs of socks, second-hand trousers, a bag of onion sets, and two bunches of “leeks” (one of which turned out to be spring onions). I managed a kilo of walnuts, though the local squirrels remain far more efficient at foraging than Banjo.

Evenings are spent working through The Lord of the Rings trilogy, followed by Harry Potter. Our suppers, however, lack the same magic. One particular chicken curry proved disastrous when the “chicken pieces” revealed themselves to be parsons’ noses. Even Banjo turned up his snout. The curry went straight into the bin, replaced by rice pudding.

Entertainment of another sort came when David spontaneously smashed a hole in the wall outside my room late one night while I was listening to Radio 4. I have plans for revenge: a dawn chorus of chainsawing outside his window should do the trick.

As if to add drama, the power failed for a full day, halting all concreting. A Brit from Doncaster appeared to ask if ours was off too. Though he’s owned a house for nine years, this was his first visit in four. Considering moving here permanently, he confessed that his UK business was failing. I doubt he’ll be joining David’s Christmas card list.

Family News

• Charlotte: Declared “old and wrinkly” by Lucas, with the brutal honesty only children can deliver.

• Sarah: Befriending ducks and heading home for Halloween.

• Jamie: Another week, another fallout with Harley.

• Nan: Happy in Harborough, though incensed at being billed for her warden service.

• Sue: Still harvesting vegetables and lunched with Nan. Hasn’t yet lit the fire or turned on the heating, stoicism at its finest.