The Chronicles of Bulgaria

Between our village, Malki Chiflik, and our capital, Sofia, the road cuts its way through the Balkan range of mountains, assisted by several lofty...

As long as I have known my dear Priyatelka, she has radiated great warmth and kindness. She is a charming woman who loves life, adores children,...

Apart from having a wee behind a bin down a back alley in Middlesbrough when I was eight years old and a tiny bit of embezzlement around six years...

So I said to Priyatelkata ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ and she replied ‘Yes! It’s very lovely.’ Maria added, ‘Life and health!’ in Bulgarian, of course. What...

An explanation of the labour of love of my life that may have started out a long time ago as a labour of clinging on to my life.

Dyado Petr, Baba Stefka and Todor Zhivkov are/were real people, the earthquake and appointment of a new head of state really did happen, and the places I’ve mentioned really do exist, but much of the rest of this tale is a fig leaf of my imagination. However, it describes an event that could have taken place in my part of Bulgaria seventy years ago. Superstition is so strong and diverse here that it’s possible to make it up and get away with it. Maybe I did make it up and maybe I didn’t.