It’s sad to see someone who was once respected, blundering around amongst the Hottentots of the European Union, and being sidelined and snubbed, but what could she expect? I’m a European, I like the EU and I can see its virtues, as well as its limitations. Brexit was never going to run and had the EU let it, it would have been the first nail in the coffin of the European Dream, and all the important political and social changes made since the WW2.
Hello and welcome to my blog, Author Interviews. My name is Fiona Mcvie.
Let’s get you introduced to everyone, shall we? Tell us your name. What is your age?
Patrick Brigham ,Over 60 or you can guess the rest!
Fiona: Where are you from?
Born in Berkshire, England to an old Reading family, having attended an English Public School and a stint at college, author Patrick Brigham moved to London, and went into real estate. After the economic crash of 1989, he licked his wounds, wrote two books, and in 1993 he decided to abandon London, the UK casino economy, and moved to Sofia, Bulgaria. As the editor in chief of the Sofia Western News, the first English news magazine in Bulgaria – between 1995 and 2000 – and as a journalist, he witnessed the political changes in this once hard-core communist country. There, he personally knew most of the…
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Fiona: Tell us your latest news?
My latest news is that my recently published novel – Goddess of The Rainbow – is doing quite well, and I have just started a semi-biographical novel called Goldfish Can’t Fly. Which will be my sixth novel.
Recently opening a bulging box file, having first removed the dust and cobwebs, I rediscovered the early attempt of my great novel, only to find that – far from being cathartic and serious – it was rather funny. From the typed foxed pages, there seemed to be a very little tragedy in my early life, just change. Through the consoling prism of maturity, it now transpires that things which once hurt me, now only amuse me. ‘Did that really happen? What a fool I must have been?’
In Jean Anouilh original stage play Becket: The Honour of God, and ultimately his 1964 film – with Peter O’Toole as Norman, King Henery II and Richard Burton as Saxon, Archbishop Thomas O’ Becket – it describes how two young men; who as inseparable friends, in later life become enemies..
An argument at a border official didn’t help my frame of mind much. He behaved so absurdly – and clearly bent on humiliating another detested bloody foreigner – I began to doubt my good judgment of going there in the first place. But by mocking this twerp, I reduced the other weary travellers to hopeless laughter when I locked my vehicle, and told him that I was going to walk to Romania – leaving my jeep and caravan blocking the entrance to this dark peoples republic – in order to use the other entrance.
The old Communist-era maxim – “the government pretends to pay us, we pretend to work, and we all steal the rest – has a great deal of truth in it, and there are many leftovers from the past that an expat might miss, one of which is the total lack of information. And that dear readers, is because everything in the Balkans is a secret!
A reader of The Balkan News Magazine, recently remarked that the magazine doesn’t seem to have much to say about the Balkans. The BNM is a continuous magazine and added to as time permits, it also reflects the lack of news, or perhaps you may not have noticed? Unlike the EU or America, where things seem to happen in abundance, Balkan news is mainly about long forgotten promises, and a strange 21stcentury phenomenon called Macro Economics. Often quoted by professional pundits in the Balkans, where an improvement in the Macro-Economic forecast for the region really means that very little is actually happening at all, it remains a good old journalistic standby.
One of the remarkable things about Brexit is the way that expats in the Balkans follow the official British Foreign Office line, and accept willy-nilly the often conflicting statements made to local British Embassy’s, by their masters in London.
“With arms held out straight, his fingers clicking, his face stern and full of the emotion which only Greek men can truly display when they weep, Dimitrios Pantzos would slowly twirl, jump and spin amongst the assorted tables and chairs, and in so doing he would reverently display the deep and painful loss he felt for his beloved Marta, and pray that one day they would finally be reunited in heaven.”