SOFIA SO GOOD

I have just returned from a flying visit to Sofia in Bulgaria, where I played a crucial part in the KNOB's attempt to woo south-eastern Europe away from techno music. We (I now consider myself a full member of KNOB) always try to adapt our music to the style of the host country, and so I dressed up in multicoloured petticoats, with giant gold hoop earrings and a fringed shawl, and had to bang a tambourine and dance about a bit in wild gipsy fashion, a bit like Maureen O'Hara in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, or Theda Bara in Cecil B. De Mille's 1915 version of "Carmen", while Bert and the boys trumped their way through a medley of Balkan favourites. The tambourine was a bit off-putting to tell you the truth, as it kept putting me in mind of my old Aunty Alice, who was with the Salvation Army, and I had to stop myself from bursting into "Jesus wants me for a sunbeam". We came second, losing by a whisker to Branko Bob and his Balkan Bangers.

After the contest we were taken to a restaurant where traditional music and dancing was promised. The food was cold and frankly inedible, and the wine so vile that I felt a hangover surfacing after only one glass, and hence had a rather sober evening. A lady in traditional garb appeared and warbled atonically, while a chap played complex tunes on an inflated sheep carcass and a couple of young ladies in tartan aprons pirouetted around waving large cheeses, which was a fairly accurate comment on the entertainment. I had never realized the Birdy Song was an old Bulgarian folk song. And this was in Sofia, the capital - Varna must be the Blackpool of the Black Sea. I was on an involuntary diet for the whole three days, as the food was not really to my liking. If it hadn't been for the yoghurt I'd have wasted away.

Meanwhile more intellectual pursuits were going on in the park, in the shadow of the luxurious Grand Hotel. Chess (rather than sumo wrestling) is the spectator sport of the masses in Bulgaria. Burly shaven-headed truck driver types were playing blitz, the pieces falling in rapid succession, while a crowd stood around and watched intently, occasionally making comments along the lines of "nice gambit, Phil" or sucking their teeth. A combination of muscle and brains that would make the Mitchell brothers gawp in awe. These were men who would checkmate you before dragging you away by your hair. I felt quite weak at the knees. Mind you, that could have been from hunger.

Photo: J.Gillis