24th November 2023

Today began with a late start at 9 a.m., and the forecast predicted heavy rain from 5 p.m. to 5 a.m. the following morning. The first task of the day was to sharpen the chainsaw blade. Although David only had a small, broken round file to hand, it took just 15 minutes to hone the cutting edges.

Despite the overnight rain, the bonfire was still smouldering, and it wasn’t long before a fresh mound of floral debris from the rear of the house was adding to the atmospheric pollution over central Bulgaria. Clearing the vegetation took us through to lunchtime and turned out to be the thorniest and most stubborn batch we’ve tackled. Protective gloves were no match for the vicious barbs, and both of us yelped regularly as spikes found their mark somewhere on our hands.

After devouring a couple of corned beef and onion sandwiches, the only food left in the kitchen apart from eggs, we turned our attention to the vegetable patch. Here, the plants were even more vicious and considerably more abundant. It was just as we were completing their destruction that the rain arrived.

We had originally planned for David to drive into Dryanovo to pick up a pizza and some beer for our evening meal, but to our surprise and delight, we received a text from our neighbour Mark during lunch, kindly inviting us round for tea at 5 p.m. Showered and dressed in clean, smokeless clothes, we trotted across the lane in the rain at the appointed time.

Mark and his long-term friend Fayeen, visiting from Singapore and staying until February, both greeted us warmly into what was an extremely cosy living room. We spent the next couple of hours chatting amiably about the other Ritya residents, bringing David up to speed on who was who, and who had either died or sold up. Fayeen made us excellent coffee and tea, and even produced some Malaysian fish crackers he had brought with him from Malaya for us to nibble on.

After a while, it became evident that the invitation for “tea” was indeed just that, cups of tea, and not the evening meal we had been rather hopefully anticipating. That was, of course, our mistake and a bit of wishful thinking. Still, the opportunity to converse with others, rather than just each other, was most welcome. With stomachs growling, we eventually made our excuses and left, hurrying back across the lane through heavy rain to a dinner of defrosted chip sandwiches and more coffee, settling down to watch further episodes of The Squid Game.

25th November 2023

Today was intended to be a lazy day, rather than another drawn-out battle with the dark forces of nature. We woke late to a dark grey sky and steady rain, which soon turned, depressingly, into sleet. Having run out of essential supplies and food, and with heavy snow forecast in the coming days, it became imperative to stock up while we still could. Our objective: a morning supply run to Lidl in Gabrovo.

David opted for the scenic route to this sprawling township, which, according to legend, was founded by a blacksmith named Racho and is situated in the valley of the Yantra River. Gabrovo is known as the international capital of humour and satire. The road took us over the mountains, along a narrow, potholed stretch increasingly blanketed by snow. The views might have been magnificent, but we soon found ourselves enveloped in cloud and saw nothing. It was a relief to finally descend and rejoin civilisation.

By the time we parked up in town, it was snowing heavily. David recalled an area where market stalls once stood, selling all manner of hardware. It had since transformed into a row of modern shopping units, though fortunately still stocked with the same practical wares, only now in the warmth. David bought a socket for the extension lead that had fused the house earlier in the week, a new fuel pipe for the strimmer (which had perished), an outdoor electric wall socket to replace the one that had contributed to our power outage, and a manual pump to drain fuel from the van that had been sitting in the yard for four years and now wouldn’t start. With these items stashed in the Citroën’s boot, we made the short drive to Lidl and began filling a large trolley with supplies.

Neither David nor I is accustomed to grocery shopping or to making the decisions needed to gather a sensible selection of ingredients. It was hard. It was mentally exhausting. Eventually, we emerged from the supermarket with a trolley heaped with goods, of which the two cases of beer were the only items we were absolutely certain we needed. Whether we’ve been prudent or not, the next few days will tell.

On the return journey, we took the safer route, which wound through valleys rather than over the high ground. We had planned to stop for a late lunch nearer to Ritya in Dryanovo, but as we passed the 12th-century Bulgarian Orthodox Monastery of St. Archangel Michael, we decided instead to eat at the restaurant on its grounds. We’ve dined there many times before, and the food has always been good.

Despite the snow outside, the establishment was quite busy, with several large families enjoying meals. After requesting ‘Engliski menus’, we were soon served something called Gouvachi, along with two garlic flatbreads and a plate of cheesy chips to share. It was all very tasty and washed down nicely with two bottles of Zagorka. David’s only complaint was that, four years ago, the Gouvachi would have come in much larger portions. That’s inflation for you!

Back at the house, we unpacked the car in steadily falling snow and lit the wood burner in the lounge. Exhausted from the day’s shopping, we had a couple of hours’ nap before settling down to chat the evening away and watch a bit more TV. The snow continued to fall outside, thankfully, we’ve a good stock of firewood.

As it got dark, the snow slowly blanketed the outside to around 6 cm, with the garden illuminated, through the windows, we could see a Hans Christian Anderson winter fairy tale scene begin to unfold as the branches and bushes took on an ever-thickening coat of sparkling sugar frosting. Stark and beautiful as it was, David warned that we should charge phones and laptops while we had power, as often in such conditions, branches laden with snow will take power lines down. An hour later, the power failed. Peering out of the window through a blizzard of white, we could see no other lights in the village; we would not be alone in resorting to torches and candles.
By the warmth of the wood burner, we chatted until midnight, and thanks to our little battery-driven gizmo, occasionally surfed the net. Later, snug in bed in the room closest to the wood burner and David still camping on the sofa in the lounge, we slept the night away peacefully.

26th November 2023

It was 9 a.m. before I reluctantly peeped out from under the duvet. The blinds in the room are so effective at blocking out all light that opening them each morning is an act of minor suspense, but today held no surprises. Outside lay a metre of snow, with more still cascading from the grey heavens above.

Wakeing cups of coffee were brewed on the gas hob in the apartment kitchen downstairs, as the electricity was still off. Once the woodburner had been freshly stoked, we discussed our options for the day. The first task was to clear the paths so we could access the wood barn, the tool barn, and the main gate. Armed with a snow shovel each, we set about our mission, made all the more difficult by a blizzard that quickly erased our best efforts.

While I concentrated on forging routes around the garden and collecting snow in a large pot to melt on the fire for washing-up water (dead rat well water being a definite no-no), David helped Mark clear a path down the lane to the village centre. This, we hoped, would signal to the snowplough, whenever it decided to arrive, that life still existed in the settlement and we were in need of attention.

Lunch was a salad. With no power, it made sense to use up the perishables first. I prepared a chicken hotpot for the evening meal and left it gently cooking atop the woodburner.

During the afternoon, the snow gradually petered out. We cleared the morning’s paths of their fresh accumulation and extended the one down the lane further into the village. Next, we dug out the hire car and brushed away its white coat of finger-numbing ice crystals. Mark appeared briefly for a chat, though Fayen remained sensibly indoors by the fire; you don’t get much snow in Malaysia, after all.

We started the car to defrost the windows and circulate the antifreeze. Although a few encouraging patches of blue sky appeared, that marked the end of our outdoor efforts for the day.

As the light began to fade, we noticed that a power line running from the house to the barn at the far end of the pool was hanging dangerously low. The trees were so heavily laden with snow that they had bowed over the cable, bending its supporting pole almost double. The snow beneath had drifted to chest height, leaving us no choice but to wade through it in an attempt to dislodge the burden.

We discovered that one tree had completely snapped at its base, and several branches from others had fallen across the power line. Dislodging the snow proved ineffective, so out came the chainsaw. We cut away much of the offending wood; though the cable was still slack and the pole remained bent, it no longer posed an immediate threat of breaking. Thoroughly exhausted and frozen, we retreated to the warmth of the wood burner and spent the evening chatting by candlelight until after midnight.

27th November 2023
We woke just before 9 a.m. to a brilliantly sunny day. Stepping outside, we felt a biting frost still in the air, but the illusion of summer warmth was enough to lift our spirits.

The failing battery power became the day’s priority. The internet gizmo had gone flat, mobile phones and tablets were running low, and the only power bank was nearly depleted. David had two car batteries and a converter stored for such situations, but one was already flat. The other, though showing full on a multimeter we’d borrowed from Mark, refused to function despite our best efforts.

Neighbourly as ever, Mark offered to charge our power bank using his solar panel, and we gratefully accepted.

The priority now was the food stored in the fridge and freezer. We packed snow into a large plastic container, moved everything in the fridge down to the lower shelves, and placed the snow on the top one. The principle that cold air sinks and warm air rises would, we hoped, hold true, creating a makeshift chill cabinet.

The freezer contents, all sealed in plastic bags, were transferred into two freezer boxes, which we packed with snow and then buried in a shaded snowdrift. We had, in effect, created our own outdoor freezer.

Annoyingly, the power returned for a couple of hours at 11:30 a.m., just long enough to raise false hopes, but fortunately, we didn’t retrieve our freezer boxes or move their contents back inside.

Later, we met Mark in the lane, busily digging a path from his house to his car, which was parked further up the lane. He had also begun clearing a way down towards the village, and David and I helped extend it before turning our efforts to digging out our hire car. Creating a narrow path served a purpose: it signalled to the snow plough, when it eventually arrived, that the lane was still inhabited and required clearing.

With paths dug to the essential parts of the property, we finally retired indoors for the night.

Having no power is a serious matter in this village if you’re not prepared. Without electricity, water can’t be pumped into the house, meaning no running taps, no showers, and, most importantly, no flushing toilets. We collect snow and melt it in a large pan on top of the wood burner for washing up and general use, and we fill large, empty drinking water containers with well water to pour down the toilets after use.

Though we have candles, they are small and only last about an hour. The main kitchen relies on an electric cooker and microwave, useless in a power cut, but the smaller kitchen has a gas hob, which we use to make tea, coffee, and simple meals. Food-wise, we’re well-stocked, and with the wood burner doing double duty as a slow cooker, hotpots and sandwiches keep us going. We won’t starve!

Evenings are spent chatting and squinting at each other through the gloom. Phones and the internet gizmo are used sparingly and powered down when not in use, to preserve what little battery remains. We tried to draw power from a couple of car batteries via an inverter unit, but after four years of inactivity, they were no longer functional.

28th November 2023

We woke to another bright, sunny day, still without power, and the snow beginning a slow, reluctant melt.

The snowplough arrived mid-morning but only cleared half the lane. David and Mark rushed out to persuade the driver to continue to the end, but by the time they’d picked their way through the treacherous conditions, he’d already left. Resigned, the three of us took to our shovels and finished digging out the rest of the lane ourselves, ensuring access for the cars.

Later in the day, Mark and Fayen drove into Dryanovo and reported that the road was reduced to a single track in places, with trees bent low over it under the weight of snow, and the surface dangerously icy.

David and I spent much of the day chopping down several trees that had grown up into the power line leading into the property. We didn’t want a repeat of the earlier damage, should it snow again, and the added weight bring them down, just as many others in the garden had already done.

By evening, the power was still off. Another candle-lit night followed, but we were warm and cosy in the lounge, enjoying another helping of chicken hotpot.

29th November 2023

It was another sunny day. I had expected much of the snow to have disappeared overnight, if not completely gone, yet the temperature must have dipped below freezing again, and only the paths remained snow-free.

We spent the day in one of the open-roofed barns, the chainsaw buzzing away as we tackled a large tree surrounded by vines and brambles that had taken root inside. Over the course of the day, we managed to rekindle the bonfire and consigned the cut and broken branches that had been leaning on the power line a few days earlier to ash. By afternoon, the tree and its thorny companions from the barn followed suit.

Miraculously, while we were eating our fried egg sandwiches at lunchtime, the power came back on and stayed on!

At the end of the day, after packing away our tools, we dug out the two freezer boxes from their snowdrift home, with some trepidation, and returned their contents to a satisfyingly humming freezer.

The evening meal was a lasagne ready-meal cooked in the wood-burning oven, with chips crisped to perfection in the now-operational air fryer. Life suddenly felt a lot easier!

We rounded off the day by watching Netflix until bedtime.