The Aromatherapist of Kozloduy

 

The Aromatherapist of Kozloduy

 

15 February 2026, Sunday

Against my will I germinated and sprouted into a divan kartof (диван картоф, meaning ‘couch potato’). It rained all day just as Lisa McGee’s series, How to Get to Heaven from Belfast arrived on Netflix, so I watched the whole thing. The dark Irish humour, gripping plot, wonderful characters and gorgeous scenery made attempting to switch off a futile business.

How ironic that they filmed so much of it on rare sunny days in Donegal but I watched it at home in Bulgaria as my house was lashed by Donegal-style sideways rain. Certainly a bit of meteorological role reversal going on there.

 

16 February 2026, Monday

The people at the Veliko Tarnovo History Group make me feel at home in Bulgaria. It began with old photographs but moved on to local art and poetry. I can read and write so I understand the printed word, but when spoken it has me struggling.

I’ve been putting extra effort into lingo lessons, looking forward to the day when it’s my jokes rather than just my poor attempts at their language that make people laugh.

A man walked into a bar, sat down at a table and the waiter brought him a menu. These cultural differences make humour difficult.

 

17 February 2026, Tuesday

The pile of snow by the well said, ‘Old love does not rust, unless your love is for a Lada Niva’.

I said, ‘That’s a very wise thing for a pile of snow by the well to say!’

The pile of snow by the well said, ‘I’m not a pile of snow by the well. I’m the old woman who sits by the well who’s been buried beneath a pile of snow by the well.’

Strangely, the well was also hidden under the snow. I asked, ‘Are you alright?’

It replied, ‘No! I’m completely covered. I’m not a tall well.’

 

18 February 2026, Wednesday

Gabrovo townspeople have a reputation for being intensely thrifty, rather like Yorkshire, Scottish and Cavan stereotypes. But proud Gabrovo even has a museum dedicated to this peculiar phenomenon.

It’s said that they cut off their cats’ tails so they can close their doors quicker when letting them out on cold days. Consequently heat doesn’t escape and fuel bills are kept down. It was cold here today and our cats all insisted on doing warm-up stretching exercises halfway across the threshold as if they were going out to run a marathon. I could really see the benefit of having shorter felines.

 

19 February 2026, Thursday

For several days, all 378 of Bulgaria’s snowploughs had worked flat out, round the clock. Such skills aren’t required on a permanent basis, especially in August, so the drivers are offered only temporary zero-hours contracts. They tend to be from all walks of life with an eagerness for earning a bit of extra cash in their spare time.

The old soothsayer that dwells in a cavern near Lidl foretold the arrival of demonic beasts from Asia’s icy heartland so he, being first in line, was allocated an easy stretch of road, but my less fortunate aromatherapist was sent to Kozloduy.

 

20 February 2026, Friday

Most of the snow had gone. Rumour had it that Johnny Ten Levs had had a wee behind the bus stop and all the antifreeze he’d been drinking since the turn of the year had flowed down the hill, clearing the main road as it went, all the way into Veliko Tarnovo. ‘Piss easy!’ he said, when asked to comment.

Then it rained, making the landscape fresh and clean for the next batch of snow due to arrive tomorrow.

And what was happening with the electricity? It was on and off like a whore’s drawers, as the old saying goes.

 

21 February 2026, Saturday

A former royal lad in England has been in bother with the law this week. Out of pity I bought his book on the internet. To avoid overseas shipping costs they sent it to me digitally. It’s called Andrew the PDF file. He was arrested and taken in for questioning on the morning of his birthday. Apparently when he saw the police knocking on his front door he thought they were strippers.

The weather people were right with their prediction as it snowed the entire day. I predicted I’d be bone-idle the entire day and I got it right too.

 

22 February 2026, Sunday

Some of the world’s whitest things are:

• My old maths teacher’s blackboard duster
• Our neighbours’ weird cat
• Irish skin
• Most of a pair of 1960s Y-fronts
• A Patsy Cline of Gianluca Vialli
• An albino rabbit
• An albino chameleon
• Leeds United’s famous all-white strip
• A Beatles album
• An albino Beatle
• My blood cells if you remove the red ones with a tea strainer
• The Seven Dwarfs’ live-in lover
• Half a chessboard
• Lactobacillus Bulgaricus
• A page listing Trump’s good points
• A Dalmatian dog done on a hot wash

But none are as white as our peaceful little valley on this snowy day.

 

23 February 2026, Monday

Suddenly we had 16°C and there was dripping everywhere. By that I don’t mean rendered down animal fat. I mean the melting snow. We went in search of the source of the River Yantra but couldn’t find it because it was two metres under water, but enjoyed nice walks in Debelets and Vetrintsi.

Vetrintsi, by the way, means ‘windy place’. Chicago in Ill-Annoy stole the idea for its nickname. That’s where Calamity Jane blew in from. There was no wind today but a million hazel catkins shook in the lovely spring breeze.

And Debelets means ‘place of fat people’. Honest!

 

24 February 2026, Tuesday

A friend once asked if he could play the lead part if ever a film was made of my life. He insisted that my collection of personal experiences was significantly more interesting than his own. With Oliver Reed no longer available, I had to agree to his request.

I certainly couldn’t do it myself as I’ve no desire to go through all that turmoil, trauma and stickiness again. But I’ve always had a soft spot the woman who plays Sister Assumpta in Father Ted, so if she were to be the leading lady there’s a chance I’d consider being me.

 

25 February 2026, Wednesday

The good thing about shit wet weather is that it boosts waterfall output. Our local cascades at Dryanovski Monastery today were as spectacular as a lad could wish for, and there was nobody else there apart from a monk sweeping the car park, a car park attendant watching the monk, and some Argentines on a mission to get ideas for tarting up the Iguazú Falls that are looking a bit tired these days.

Nothing beats a warm spring day’s azure sky, a muddy walk by a raging torrent, and a frenzy of flora poking its head out of the ground.

 

26 February 2026, Thursday

It snowed, not heavily but enough to mess up Priyatelkata’s birthday plans. Alternative proceedings took place at restaurant ‘Etno’, the Museum of the Life and Work of Kolyo Ficheto, the seeds and bulbs shop where the man and woman proprietors put on live entertainment in the form of a huge argument, canapés and sparkling rakia at the house of the old woman who sits by the well, and the Marx Marks tattoo studio for ‘Kolyo Ficheto is the Maestro’ inks. Mucky Monika’s Massage Parlour couldn’t accommodate us because in such cold weather her oil had solidified in the chip pan.

 

27 February 2026, Friday

Sunny springtime returned, as did our yearning for the great outdoors. Spectacular local waterfall of the day was the one at Hotnitsa. It’s visually one of the best but only a short walk from the car park, so within twenty minutes of our arrival our business was done.

There was a man there fishing. Surely his catch would be brain-damaged from spending any time at all in the violently turbulent plunge pool. Four young cats looked on with quantity-not-quality expressions on their faces.

The lake at Gorsko Kosovo was equally stunning despite its lack of waterfalls, fresh fish and cats.

 

28 February 2026, Saturday

In the race to end the world, America and Israel have already passed the final furlong marker, England’s having trouble with its blinkers, and Ireland thinks the whole thing should be decided by a game of football. Meanwhile Bulgaria mans the carpark, takes bets and sells greasy burgers. And I’m worried sick about my dear friend Farzaneh in Tehran.

After three months of feline invalid rehabilitation, Crazy Ludo’s been allowed outside. For a few days all went well but he came home last night virtually shredded. He loves a good fight, like a navvy having just got his weekly pay.

 

---

Image:

The aromatherapist at work in Kozloduy. Or it might have been a council worker clearing the roads near the park in Veliko Tarnovo. My own photograph.

 

The previous part:

When Your Snow is Deeper Than Your Dog