10th May 2024

Between returning from Italy and setting off on the drive to Bulgaria with David and Banjo the dog, I’ve turned my attention to planting up the allotment and garden plots with vegetables and preparing more seeds in the greenhouse. Alas, despite digging over the soil last autumn, the relentless rain throughout winter and early spring has compacted the earth and destroyed its structure, hardly ideal for fragile seedlings. Added to this, our recent travels have meant they haven’t received the same level of tender care as in previous years. Regrettably, I’m resigned that this won’t be a bumper harvest. I’ve also decided that, after this season, I’ll give up one of the allotments. They simply produce far more than we can eat or even give away.

A couple of days before my epic drive across Europe, I attended an eye appointment in Leicester and, as suspected, was told I’d be scheduled for another round of injections to preserve the sight in my left eye. While Sue entertained Bridget with coffee and cake in the Garden Room, I took the bus to the hospital, an outing that was not without incident.

Having made this journey many times, it’s usually a peaceful 50-minute trip during which I’ve often managed a short nap. However, on the outward leg, as we passed through Kibworth in heavy traffic, the bus became stuck behind an elderly cyclist and was unable to overtake. Suddenly, a loud voice began shouting from the back, demanding the driver pass. The shouting became increasingly abusive. I assumed it was a man, by the voice, but was surprised when a person in their late teens, wearing a dress, rushed to the driver’s sealed cab, banged on the perspex screen, and continued the tirade. The bus came to a halt. For several minutes, the insults flew back and forth until the driver, clearly fed up, said he wasn’t moving until the offender calmed down. Eventually, she slumped back into a seat, and we continued the journey. As we reached the city, the person got off with a group of students who seemed very eager not to be seen with them.

On the return journey, while waiting at Leicester’s High Cross bus terminus, a commotion broke out outside. Several people rushed to the windows to see what was happening. It was 3.30 p.m., school home time, and assuming it was just students letting off steam, I paid it little attention. I later learned from the news that a 15-year-old boy had been stabbed. The world is certainly a far more dangerous place than when I was a child, catching the bus home from school.

The following day, Sue attended a pre-operative appointment in Leicester ahead of a procedure in a few weeks. Thankfully, that trip passed without drama. Another heartfelt thank you to the NHS, they really do look after us well as we gradually wear out!

15th May 2024

While Sue was out shopping in Corby, followed by a trip to the cinema, David and Banjo arrived just after 11 a.m. Banjo had a quick explore of the garden while David and I enjoyed a coffee, and then we set off towards the M1, bound for Dover.

We arrived at the ferry port shortly after 3 p.m. Although we were booked onto the 6 o’clock crossing to Dunkirk, we tried our luck and managed to board the 4 o’clock ferry instead. It had been a lovely sunny drive to the port, and the fine weather held until we approached the French coast, where black clouds loomed, and rain was clearly on its way.

Check-in at Dover was straightforward. The boat was far from crowded, with only around a dozen cars and a similar number of lorries making the crossing. Surprisingly, there were no checks at Dunkirk—we were simply waved straight through onto the French road network.

Our hotel for the night was the Première Classe in Loon-Plage, a decidedly basic establishment that somehow managed to squeeze three beds into the smallest space imaginable. Fortunately, two men and a dog turned out to be a perfect fit.

Dinner was a modest affair: a handful of walnuts and a Lidl salad box, washed down with coffee, all consumed while perched on our respective beds.

16th May 2024

We woke early at 6 a.m., had a quick breakfast of Weetabix, and squeezed into the smallest of shower cubicles before hauling our bags down to the car. After a swift ‘poop and scoop’ with Banjo, we checked out.

The morning was utterly miserable, with heavy, driving rain that showed no sign of letting up. It persisted for the first couple of hours until we stopped at a motorway service area for coffee and another necessary pause for Banjo. Remarkably, the rain eased while we were there, only to resume the moment we pulled back onto the motorway.

Several lengthy stretches of roadworks, combined with an accident, contributed to slow progress until we stopped again at a service station for lunch, another Lidl salad box and a chocolate bar.

For much of the afternoon, the journey continued under dull but dry skies. However, any real progress was repeatedly thwarted by yet more roadworks and heavy traffic.

At around 5 p.m., the skies darkened dramatically, and a thunderstorm broke, bringing with it huge hailstones that hammered the car and threatened to smash the windscreen. Further along the motorway, the inevitable happened: a crash had brought traffic to a standstill. Eventually, we inched past the scene in a slow crawl, passing the unfortunate travellers involved.

As we left the storm behind, the weather began to clear, and the final leg of our journey to Regensburg and the Dream Inn Hotel passed quickly. It had been a 550-mile drive through three countries, France, Belgium, and Germany, taking just over 13 hours. Motorway travel offers little in the way of scenery, and it was only towards the end that we noticed a shift from the flat, rain-soaked fields and dreary settlements to the more scenic Bavarian landscape.

Our accommodation was a welcome improvement on the previous night. The room was light, airy, and a decent size. Supper, enjoyed in the room, consisted of walnuts, a sausage roll, a cheese sandwich, and a chocolate bar. We spent the remainder of the evening glued to our laptops.

17th May 2024

It was a horrendous night’s sleep. Our room, located on the third floor at the side of the hotel, was unfortunately just twenty metres from the loading dock of a Netto supermarket. At midnight, 2 a.m., and 4 a.m., lorries arrived and were noisily loaded by workers who seemingly hurled containers into the metal void, creating a din loud enough to wake the dead. The double glazing barely made a difference.

Bleary-eyed, we dragged ourselves out of bed by 9:30 a.m. and were back on the road an hour and a half later.

The day proved as miserable as the night. Rain persisted without pause, making motorway driving difficult. Spray from lorries and cars reduced visibility and kept our speed down, while traffic jams, roadworks, and several accidents, one involving a very expensive-looking Porsche, added to the chaos.

We stopped at Lidl to pick up milk and four more salad boxes to fuel us through the next stages of the journey. Out of petty principle, we refused to set foot in Netto after its role in last night’s torment.

There’s little to say about the rest of the day; visibility was poor, and any surrounding countryside remained a blur through rain-streaked windows. The 368-mile stretch took eight hours, including a brief pause for Banjo’s ‘poop and scoop’ and another to eat our soggy salad boxes in the car as rain hammered down.

We had originally planned a detour to a scenic lake, but that idea was quickly abandoned once it became clear how slow progress would be. Eventually, we reached our hastily chosen accommodation at 8 p.m., having realised we wouldn’t make our intended stop until after 11 p.m.

The Pasa Han Hotel, an unpretentious Hungarian place, turned out to be just what we needed: dog-friendly, no frills, but with comfortable beds and, crucially, no Netto next door. It even had free Netflix (a bonus) and poor Wi-Fi (less so). Before retiring, we enjoyed a drink in the hotel bar and chatted with the friendly Turkish staff.

18th May 2024

We woke early to a dry, if overcast, morning. As we headed east toward Romania, the skies gradually cleared.

It took about an hour to reach the Hungarian-Romanian border, where we joined a long queue of cars and lorries. After about another hour, we reached the checkpoint. First, the Hungarian immigration officials checked our passports, then handed them to their Romanian counterparts, who repeated the process before finally returning them and waving us on our way.

What a palaver!

After picking up two more salad boxes in the next town we passed through, we spent the next five hours driving through the predominantly flat Romanian countryside, stopping only twice: once at a rest stop to eat our lunch, and again at a taverna on the banks of the Danube for a quick refreshment. The day had turned out beautiful, warm and sunny, a refreshing contrast to the relentless rain and grey skies of the previous legs of this epic journey.

As we approached the Bulgarian border, the landscape shifted, becoming more mountainous, and the heavy traffic that had accompanied us for most of the day thinned out considerably. It was dark by the time we reached the checkpoint, where yet another hour-long queue awaited. Once again, we endured the same bureaucratic palaver as earlier, passport checks by both countries’ officials, this time with added extras. We had to buy a toll for the bridge that took us across the Danube into Bulgaria, and also purchase a vignette (road tax) to legally drive on Bulgarian roads.

We had found a very cheap hotel on Booking.com in Vidin, and twenty minutes later, we arrived. It was 11 p.m., we were shattered, and the last of the salad boxes were gulped down before we gratefully settled in for the night.

19th May 2024

We had a good night’s sleep and woke at 8:15 a.m. With the rain having returned and only just over five hours’ drive predicted to Ritya, we made a lazy start to the day; there was no rush to be on the road.

After breakfasting and showering, we eventually set off, heading southeast through steady drizzle and occasional patches of fog. Google Maps offered us a different route than the one David usually took, thanks to a number of new roads built since he last passed this way more than five years ago.

The dreary weather limited our view of the passing landscape, but the upside was a distinct lack of traffic, and we made good progress. We stopped three times: once for coffee at a service station, once to deal with Banjo being sick in the back seat, and finally at Lidl in Sevlievo to buy provisions for the coming week.

Arriving at the lane leading to Ritya, we were shocked to find that its surface had been replaced with gravel and kerbstones had been laid along one side. We had heard that the lane was due to be tarmacked and that water pipes had been installed, but we can only hope the work will be completed over the summer rather than being left in this dreadful state.

Parking outside the gate of David’s house, we were greeted by the elderly lady who lives across the road, and we also noticed that the derelict house next door was undergoing extensive renovation. Apparently, one of David’s neighbours and friends from the village has purchased the property.

On entering the garden, we could see that the weeds had grown rampant since our last visit in December, but inside the house, everything was just as we had left it. The first job was to switch the power back on, followed by turning on the water supply from the well.

After unloading the car and putting away our provisions for the coming week, we turned our attention to hoovering up the dead ladybirds that inevitably appear whenever the house is left unoccupied for any length of time. We were utterly exhausted, and a simple meal of toast was all we could manage.

Tomorrow we tackle the weeds and begin preparing the house for Genya’s arrival next week.

We had driven 1,850 miles across eight countries without incident in five days. Not bad going!