This Sort of Thing - April 2024 - The Sporophyte Stage

 

 

15 April, Monday

Snezhinka visited the vet for a post-operative check-up. The vet was happy but the dog expressed displeasure. She’s a very whiny dog, often sounding like she’s doing an impression of Kenneth Williams saying ‘Oh, Matron!’, which is quite impressive for a native Bulgarian. 

If ever you’re in Negushevo, the Yan BibiYan Guest House is a grand place to stay. Todor and Mariana nourished me with nettle banitsa, Shopska salad and rakia (all homemade) as we talked into the night about the strange but wonderful country we live in. Todor learned his English from clients whilst driving a van for DHL.

 

16 April, Tuesday

Mariana served a full Negushevo breakfast with lashings of healthy stuff. Being so close to Sofia I half expected some of the unhealthy but tasty trappings of the modern world.

Meeting all three of my kids at the airport at noon was altogether magnificent, exciting and emotional. Their first visit to these parts since before the global pandemonium.

They loved our house and garden despite the lack of Manchesterness and they loved Priyatelkata’s Bulgarian cooking and our dogs and cats but some of the cats didn’t like them at all. This happens when you brainwash your pets with pro-Leeds propaganda.

 

17 April, Wednesday

Snezhinka again visited the vet even though she’s almost cured but Secondborn Seán stayed in bed with his food poisoning which definitely wasn’t caused by our homemade vegetarian lasagne.

I took Firstborn Sophie and Thirdborn Rose to visit various cafés, bars, ice cream parlours, tourist tat traps and beautiful historic buildings in town. Priyatelkata stayed at home with the lasagne and temporary tranquillity. 

Luckily, Cat Crado spotted the demonic Scolopendra (a predatory and venomous local arthropod of disturbing proportions) before any of our visitors saw it so we could remove it from the bedroom wall, averting any need for screaming.

 

18 April, Thursday

Beyond our threshold raged an almighty tempest of such terrific magnitude that branches and immature fruits were struck from trees and nobody (including felines needing poos) could venture outside. Secondborn Seán’s intimate fluidity problem showed slight abatement but an additional curse emerged to ‘pile’ on his agony.

Approximately 60% of us visited the Museum of Illusions where some items played immense tricks on the eye and the mind but others were akin to Bridlington Seafront bingo prizes.  

Firstborn Sophie’s online job interview went well so we dined at Restaurant Shtastlivetsa (Щастливецa, meaning ‘Happy Man’ but not Seán) to await results.

 

19 April, Friday

A cold but sunny day heralded Secondborn Seán’s readmission to So Solid Crew. Thirdborn Rose requested a return to the Gabrovo Museum of Humour and Satire where we enjoy the medieval church paintings of moneylenders and whores being dissected from the genitals upwards. Humour or satire?

Gabrovians, like Yorkshire folk, are renowned for being frugal, cutting off cats’ tails so doors can be closed quicker when letting them outside on cold days. The museum tells the tale.

We rushed Snezhinka to the vet with a reopened operation wound before our sumptuous last supper in Arbanasi.

Sophie got the job… hurroo!

 

20 April, Saturday

Welcome to anti-climax land! I rose traumatically early to wave off my lovely children as they were driven away in Dimitar’s swish taxi. They returned to their distant dystopia and I returned to bed for what for a normal person would have been far too long but for me was far too short.

A cold grey day so I concentrated on yawning, reading a new book, involuntary dozing and listening to Romanian Jazz on Spotify. The tinkling on the keys of Johnny Răducanu always tranquilises me. I wish Johnny could help with the mushy hole in the dog’s foot too.

 

21 April, Sunday

Some people might call me a tree hugger. This suggests intimacy. They don’t realise some of my trees are very young and some really old. Some are misshapen or recovering from diseases. Some suffer insect infestations while others are covered in bird shit. A few died so I cut them up and burnt them for winter warmth.

But I love them all.

Some people might find this relationship strange. If I showed the same feelings towards a group of humans living in my garden I would most definitely be considered a weirdo.

But no tree has ever pissed me off.

 

22 April, Monday

Daily trips to the vet have rendered the gammy canine foot situation repetitive and boring for all concerned. So no more updates until the job’s done and dusted.

Wintry wet weather returned overnight and despite the cheer of afternoon sun we continued feeling as cold as a witch’s mammary gland with no desire to work outside… or inside. In the lovely Rodopi town of Smolyan it snowed.

Although the level at nearby Yovkovtsi Reservoir has fallen 4 metres, Water Engineer Rosen Trifonov says there’s nothing to worry about.

Luckily we have wars to take our minds off climate change problems.

 

23 April, Tuesday

You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to photograph yoghurt. The absence of sharp edges and contrasting features for focussing purposes was exacerbated by bad weather necessitating an indoor shoot under artificial light. I’m reassured, however, that paparazzi images of me in compromising situations with yoghurt will be too blurred for publication in tabloid newspapers.

And I was harangued by cats throughout, some of which weren’t even ours.

Dairy produce isn’t my preferred photographic subject matter but I needed a picture to accompany a poem I wrote about our magnificent Lactobacillus Bulgaricus, scientifically proven to be the world’s finest yoghurt.

 

24 April, Wednesday

A huge dust cloud’s particles behaved like refugees. Originating in Africa they landed mostly in Greece. Pictures of orange-tinted Athens dominated front pages. Many continued on to Bulgaria. Neither country welcomed them. They covered our car but we let them stay because we’re compassionate souls and we’re hopeless at washing cars.

Our city’s football club, FK Etar 1924, was 100 years old today. This top-flight club with a rich history has this season been Bulgaria’s Sheffield United, so the top-flight status is almost over. I missed the big celebration at Ivaylo Stadion because Priyatelka hadn’t finished knitting my purple scarf.

 

25 April, Thursday

Aylyak (Айляк) is a Bulgarian word meaning ‘The art of not giving a shit, doing everything at a relaxed pace and not worrying at all.’ It’s also the word for the Plovdiv state of mind; Plovdiv being Bulgaria’s second city and the oldest continually inhabited settlement in Europe.

It rained. There were things I could have done but none seemed as rewarding as lounging with a book and a stack of CDs of Balkan Gypsy music. Surrounded by ten animals and one human woman who were also quite inactive, I’m only slightly ashamed to say that today was my aylyak day.

 

26 April, Friday

I had a little birch tree, nothing would it bear, mainly because it was dead. It survived three winters but perished this spring. Devastating! I blame the moles… fluffy little bastards! When I sold my house in Chippenham ten years ago the only thing I missed was its magnificent birch tree. Driving by six months later I saw it had been felled to make way for a car port. Lumberjacks are worse than moles.

Bulgaria’s date for adopting the Euro currency has been postponed to July 2025 because we’re ‘not ready’. I envisage numerous postponements. We excel at feet dragging.

 

27 April, Saturday

We mark Lazarovden (Лазаровден, or St Lazar’s Day) by putting flowers in rivers and streams, or just the bath, to bring healing and purity. Groups of beautiful maidens prepare for marriage by dressing in gaily embroidered dresses and parading the village with baskets to gather gifts from those wishing them a bountiful future. Today, for the first time in over 50 years, Slavka did the rounds alone. Was the hole in her basket a metaphor for life?

In town hundreds of maidens dressed as American cheer-girls and ate KFC from buckets. There was a competition apparently. I hope Bulgarian culture won.

 

28 April, Sunday

FIFA announced a partnership with Saudi Arabia's state-owned oil company Aramco, which is the world's largest corporate emitter, and on Friday night, in a ‘must win’ game, Leeds United got a right dicking from QPR. High time, I thought, to turn my back on the misery that football brings and perhaps take up gaily embroidering traditional Bulgarian costumes as a pastime.

I dug up an invasive colony of Jerusalem artichokes to plant nicer things. They produce nice yellow flowers but need heavy duty watering during the hottest months. Their so-called edible bits taste like dog poo but aren’t as salty.

 

29 April, Monday

Two ticks was the time it took to evict the two ticks that had made themselves at home in the opulent surroundings of my dermis. Did the one in my armpit consider his social standing higher than that of the one encamped at the back of my knee? Priyatelkata removed them promptly because they are known to introduce Lyme Disease, symptoms of which include fatigue, swollen glands and insanity. Perhaps we weren’t prompt enough.

Beneath heavy duty rainclouds I planted hydrangeas where artichokes once lurked. In an afternoon I absorbed enough moisture to keep both species alive for a summer.

 

30 April, Tuesday

If I was asked to draw a graph to compare the rate at which the dog’s wound is healing with the rate at which Priyatelkata and I are losing patience with the three-times-a-day struggle to spray healing preparation onto the semi-necrotic canine tissue, I’d probably just snap all my crayons in two and go to the pub with the affluent vet.

This warm wet weather makes the snails happy but hungry, much to the detriment of our plants. We shoo them away but they move so slowly. Removing their shells to streamline them failed as it only made them sluggish.

 

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Image:

Me and my daughters and my favourite illusion at the Veliko Tarnovo Museum of Illusions. The curator took the photograph but on my camera.

 

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Click on the link for part one...

This Sort of Thing - April 2024 - The Gametophyte Stage

https://www.abctales.com/story/turlough/sort-thing-april-2024-gametophyte-stage