18th September 2013

Alarms were set for 7 a.m., but Banjo’s early-morning “business meeting” at 6:30 am had me up and about before the racket began. Why the crack-of-dawn start? Because Sevdolin, the local powerhouse, was due at 8 am sharp. True to his word, he rolled up on time. A big lad with an easy manner and just enough English to keep things moving, he proved both diligent and cheerful.

While David outlined the grand plan, Banjo and I took a brisk constitutional down the lane. By the time we returned, Sevdolin was already clambering about the roof, tossing tiles down with gusto, while David quickly manned the ladder like a faithful but increasingly weary sherpa.

After a brief council of war, we decided our backs were worth saving and cobbled together a chute to slide the tiles straight onto the wood store roof. Sevdolin set it up while David and I positioned ourselves in the attic, feeding tiles onto our new downhill adventure. The contraption wobbled alarmingly at first, but once wedged with a solid chunk of timber, it held firm. Soon, the tiles were zipping down like kids at a waterpark.

As Sevdolin busied himself with lats, I kept the tiles moving while David arranged them into neat piles. After a few hours of this monotonous routine, we both drifted into daydreams involving activities with fewer sharp edges.

Lunch was mercifully simple: egg sandwiches, cherry tomatoes, and, naturally, a beer to keep the spirits up.

With every last tile safely dispatched, we set about removing the old joists. Thanks to our trusty crowbars, they surrendered with suspicious ease and were soon stacked neatly at the back of the house. By the time Sevdolin headed home, half the wood store roof was already tiled, and David and I were left tidying the loft and attempting to reinforce the cross pieces. The wood, however, was so stubborn it laughed at nails. Tomorrow, the drill and screws will have their turn.

With the day’s labour behind us, we scrubbed the grime away and headed into Dryanovo for dinner. Sweet and sour chicken was the order of the day, though whatever arrived bore little resemblance to anything I’ve seen in a Chinese restaurant. Still, with a pile of cheesy chips on the side, it filled a hole.

A good day’s work all told. Now we wait to see whether the weather gods favour our fragile roof tomorrow.