by Margaret Heath, Clare Staughton and Nick Heath
Lady Heath lived in Sofia in the early 1960s while her husband – Sir Mark Heath – was British Consul and Deputy British Ambassador to Bulgaria. They stayed in Sofia with their three young children. Two of them – Clare and Nick – also share childhood memories of Bulgaria in this story from the 100UKBG series. Happy reading!
“Perhaps we should revisit Sofia after all these years?” – Nick Heath
Memories flood back of Bulgaria in the early 60s. My late husband was Consul and deputy head of mission.
We were in a flat with three bedrooms and a tiny maid’s room and we had children aged 2, 4, 6 and a helper living in. Our wonderfully fierce cook, Slavka, went off to report on us on Tuesday afternoons as I understood it. She was well in with the regime. Her cooking was superb. She would spin sugar using two spoons and my omelet pan and make her own bread rolls.
Milka our other maid invited us to her sister’s wedding and I took the children, warning them there might not be a feast. Not a bit of it; every part of the sheep was used and salads flowed, as did wine. To my horror there was a collection. I had taken a present bit not much cash. It was rare to get a glimpse of Bulgarian life like that.
Family back in the UK thought we were having a horrid time in a very communist country but in fact I was in clover, teaching my elder children every morning and then out and about as a diplomatic wife for the rest of the day. The usual rule applied: the more difficult the posting the closer the members of the embassy. We did Scottish dancing organised by the military attaché and put on extracts from Shakespeare in the residence, performing to an invited audience including Bulgarians.
Picnics in the surrounding countryside were a joy, as were walks with the children, although I routinely carried a razor and potassium permanganate having read a nasty piece with the memorable, “if you are bitten by a snake do not worry – some have been bitten and survived”. The children wore gumboots and stamped a lot. We ski-ed: this involved walking up on order to enjoy the quick descent. We went to Borovitz or “the cuckoo house” as the children called it.
Between ambassadors it fell to us to arrange the annual staff children’s party in the Residence. We found a brilliant conjuror who cut the footman’s tie in half – he played his part to perfection. Somebody – cd it have been a Carrick? – introduced the game of “Egyptian mummies”; the children were in pairs and the race was on to wrap ones partner as a mummy in an entire roll of loo paper. The sight of the Residence afloat in loo paper made me think how awful if the new ambassador were suddenly to turn up.
The Army and Navy stores had sent out gifts for loot bags. We were able to use the bag. A firm from Denmark delivered some supplies and local “Corecom” supplied meat, as I remember best fillet cost the same as mince in a very egalitаrian way. Fruit was available in season and we had a freezer and people going to Greece or Turkey brought back goodies galore. The dip wives went across to former Yugoslavia where there was a market. Chickens were sold live and Slavka slaughtered them. She would have dealt with a live sheep without turning a hair.
There is a lot in Sir Roger Carrick’s book “Diplomatic Anecdotage”. I could go on and on, telling for example of the diplomatic wives outing by coach, with a singing competition.
Our Ambassador was away with his wife so it fell to me to go on a Wives’ Outing. Parking was totally hassle-free as so few Bulgarians had cars so I left my Mini where we boarded the coach. Not knowing what to expect I wore sensible shoes, which turned out a wise decision. Off we sent. One of the Iron Curtain wives was a professional opera singer and to my horror a singing competition was organised. The Bulgarian next to me said she had learned “My Bonnie is over the ocean” and suggested a duet. We did not win, need I say, but we kept our end up.
We were let loose on a strawberry field. Bulgarian pickers in native dress gave us each large trays of fruit with a charming bob. Then we all had lunch as guests, as I recall, of the mayor of a local town. Then to a vineyard and presentations of delicious red wine. It all took longer than the organisers had bargained for and we were travelling back in the dark with the wives whose husbands had been asked to pick them up at the scheduled time getting increasingly anxious. Suddenly we ran into a military convoy and all the blinds were quickly drawn. Some the wine bottles has been rather badly stowed and there was a lovely smell but broken glass. It had been a lovely day and I was so glad Mark had not been waiting for hours and got worried.
Memories from daughter Clare Staughton (Heath then):
My memories of our Bulgarian time are entirely happy. Our flat was congenial, if small. From its windows I could watch crocodiles of small girls in headscarves holding the hem of the child in front’s skirt on the way to the park from School. We [my elder brother and I] were taught at home and school included glorious nature walks finding orchids and hellibores, a beautiful snake curled under a stone, jars of tadpoles and patches of wild strawberries.
There would be vast “diplomatic” picnics, picking wild lilac and playing rounders, everyone bringing their own basket of lunch. Play took up a great deal of our time. I managed to fall and cut my forehead requiring a dramatic trip to hospital where I was stitched and bound up beautifully, given a little black chimney sweep charm for luck and a horse serum anti tetanus injection requiring that I ate no meat for ten days. The entire diplomatic core brought me fruit… rare then in Sofia shops; heaven for a five year old. We were forbidden to drink local [unpasteurised] milk and had dried tinned milk instead but the home made yoghurt we had was delicious and unheard of back in Engand then. We had a wonderful time.
Memories from son Nick Heath:
Brings back childhood memories. Slavka used to shout “Slavka donner pam pam” with great glee as she slaughtered chickens on the balcony. Perhaps we should revisit Sofia after all these years?