Breakfast on the Terrace, Part 2

Well, I am very sorry that, once again, you could not join us for breakfast this morning. As usual, we did our scoffing on the terrace. The view was wonderful and that naughty little dog was up to her usual mischief. 

We have had a dreadful time with Irena’s Russian tourist visa. It has been a complete and utter pain, as well as taking flipping ages and ages. I mean, it is bad enough that she has to even apply for a visa to visit her own blooming country. Have you ever heard of anything so totally crazy? As well as the actual visa, you also need medical insurance. The application form takes a long time to fill in, as there are so many pointless and repetitive questions. In addition to the visa application form, there is also something silly called “a Russian tourist voucher”. We had to go to Veliko Tarnovo, in order to go to some tourist agencies. The only problem was that these agencies did not know anything about this stupid voucher thing, so I had to buy one online. The next hurdle will be my dear sweet wife's PSR test for COVID. I wonder how much that is going to cost. 

The grass in our gardens has gone a sort of light brown colour and huge cracks have appeared just about everywhere. It looks as though we have had an earthquake. You will be pleased to know that our veggies continue to do well, as we water them every evening. 

As for firewood, it looks as though I shall be cutting down no less than FOUR old fruit trees in our garden. Some of them are sick, one is completely dead and one of them is leaning at a very strange angle. In the UK, you would probably need to have a Health and Safety certificate and special permission from the Council. In Bulgaria, you just cut them down.

Our flytrap continues to take its deadly toll on the local insect population. Vincent, our next-door neighbour, has now made one of his own, having seen how effective ours is. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.