Saturday 29th June 2019

Some of you may be wondering about my extremely prolonged absence from this blog. Has she forgotten to pay her internet bills and been cut off from the world of social networking? Has she vanished into the muddy depths of her garden where she is now living a zen existence among the snails and fireflies? What of that dreaded horned viper... is she even alive!

Fear not, dear reader, I am very much alive and kicking, as is the viper (as far as I know) because my very brave Crocodile Dundee type friend came along shortly after the last blog entry and, armed only with a plastic box and a stick, managed to hook the beastie into the box ready for swift relocation.

Never one to underestimate the power of tiny creatures, I immediately duct taped the lid to the box and added a few hefty stones on top, just in case snaky had the strength to rip through the tape. (He first had a few bunches of damp grass thrown on top of him for shelter). But what to do with him next? I know they like stony areas to live in, but it needed to be where there was no danger of someone walking nearby, or a nosy cat or dog falling victim to a bite. So the box was placed on the front seat of the car, still with rocks on top, and off we drove to find a new home. It was a rather dangerous journey as I wildly imagined the box toppling onto the floor, the lid falling off, and a car version of 'Snakes on a Plane' ensuing, so I drove along with one hand on the wheel and the other holding onto the box to keep it in place.

Not far outside the village there's a small lay-by, and on the other side of the road an area full of huge rocks leading up the hillside through scrubby shrubs. Surely no one would be venturing round there, so I pulled over and gingerly released the snake into the wild. He was very hissy and wouldn't leave the box at first, but then realised he could now get out, and wriggled away over the weeds and in amongst the rocks. Hopefully he has made a new den there and is regaling his new horned viper friends with tales of his adventures.

It was fortunate that the snake was disposed of at that time as only a few days later I headed off to the UK for the annual exam marking stint and to see all the relatives. Apart from tons of quality time with the family and gorging on saveloy and chips, one of the things I wanted to check out in the UK was one of the companies who deliver goods from the UK to Bulgaria at very reasonable rates. One of the firms operates from premises not too far from where my sister lives, so seemed an ideal one to use. They claim on their site that belongings take roughly five days to arrive in Bulgaria, so, not wanting my goods to get there before I did, I decided to wait until a few days before departing, to take my holdall to the allotted place.

The website said they were open from 9.30am on Saturday, so at about 10am my sister drove me down the A13 to where the depot was. Or where it claimed to be. We arrived in a very deserted yard full of garage lock-ups and not a soul to be seen. Were we in the right place? Certainly it matched the instructions on the website. I tried phoning the number on the site but no one answered. Hmm... One of the more worrying things is that you are supposed to be able to send things directly here from eBay or Amazon and have them forwarded to BG, but how would this happen if the postie turns up and there's no one to hand over the packages to? Feeling frustrated we headed back home whereupon I contacted the other firm.

They are located on the other side of London to where my sister lives but at least they answered the phone.

"Can you bring the package straight here?" asked the woman at the other end. "Our trucks are just about to set off for Bulgaria."

"Umm, no, I need someone to come and collect it" (which the website says can be arranged for £10).

"Okay, I will call you on Monday after I speak to our driver, to arrange collection."

Phew, that sounded more positive.

Monday morning came and I figured it would probably be quicker if I just phoned them. Guess what? No answer. I tried again half an hour later and it seemed the phone had been switched off. Brilliant! Only three days left in the UK and I still hadn't organised delivery of all my excessive shopping. Google to the rescue. After a bit of searching I was very surprised to see that Parcelforce actually came up as a cheaper option than both the Bulgarian companies.

The Bulgarian ones were £1 per kilo plus £10 collection fee, plus the cost of Econt from Sofia to Dryanovo on top of that. With Parcelforce I could send a 30 kilo package door to door for a total of £26. Perfect! Okay, you just know that's not the end of the saga, don't you.

I made the booking online for collection the next day (Tuesday) between 3pm and 5pm. That would give me time in the morning to go on one last mad spending spree as I now had an extra 10 kilos of goodies to cram in, having previously planned to send a total of 20kg. I arrived back from the shops at about 11.30am to find a card through the door.

We tried to collect your parcel but no one was in.

Grrrrrr!

I phoned the number on the card and explained that the driver had called far too early, and was he going to return at the right time.

"No problem," she said, "that's been rescheduled for you, and the driver will phone before he comes."

Not wanting to miss the knock at the door, I sat in the front room looking out onto the street from about 2pm onwards. 5pm and still no one came, so once more I phoned Parcelforce.

"Our driver called at 3.30pm but no one was in."

I was furious! Uselessly I tried telling her that this was a complete and utter lie, that I'd been sitting right near the door at that time and no one had attempted to call and there certainly hadn't been another card through the door. She was having none of it and just kept repeating that the driver had called but no one was in. Computer says no...

I now had just one day left.

The collection was rescheduled for the next morning and I was told to phone the local depot at 8am to be informed where in the driver's schedule I was. As you can imagine, at 8am on the dot I was dialling. The woman at the other end confirmed that my collection was on the list but that the driver wasn't answering his phone, so she couldn't give me a precise time. GRRRRRRRR!!!

Well, great excitement when, at about 10am, a red van pulls up outside. Yes! The driver (possibly Polish from the accent) asked for the holdall at which point I asked if he was going to put the address labels on it. He told me that this would happen back at the depot. This all seemed a bit vague. What if my homemade label dropped off? Would he remember which package was mine by the time he returned to base? I decided to photograph him as he drove off so I could at least have some evidence if it all went pear shaped.

I needed to buy some new suitcase padlocks, so headed off to the shops to purchase them. Half an hour later I return home to a very worried sister who tells me another Parcelforce man has just been to try and collect my holdall. Seriously? Is this Parcelfarce?

Once more on the phone where I'm told it's been logged as a failed collection. You can imagine my tone as I tried to calmly explain that someone had taken my holdall and that I had his number plate if she needed to track him down. A while later she phoned back to say that he had pressed the wrong button when logging it by mistake and that my holdall was now safely at the depot, all labelled up and ready for dispatch. Hallelujah!

Once back in Bulgaria I tracked its progress daily and finally, after just over a week, it was logged as being held at the local depot in Bulgaria awaiting delivery. Excellent, I thought, as I walked home from the local post office. Another day and it should be at my door. At that moment I saw an Interlogistica van driving off up the street and my heart sank. This is the courier firm used by Parcelforce in Bulgaria. I bet he's just been at my house trying to deliver the holdall. I flew back to mine and sure enough there was the card stuck on the gate. Dropping everything I phoned the number and begged the woman to give me the driver's mobile number as he was still in the village somewhere. Why is it so hard to find a pen and paper when you're in a blind panic? As fast as I could I phoned the driver and thankfully he was still in the vicinity and able to return to mine. Success!!

Minutes later there he was with my holdall, still in one piece and full of forgotten delights. So, all in all a bit of a Herculean task, but worth all the stress and worry to see these beauties among other things: