Did I forget to tell you where to get the video on how to get a job?

It wouldn’t surprise me. I have the attention span of a gnat with Alzheimer’s.

If you go to www.eadim.com, you will find the report, with a charming video of me telling you a little about it.

And at the top here is the blurry picture I mentioned yesterday of me having my few remaining hairs removed by a lady in Sofia.

Note that she, on the other hand, is not at all short of hair – and note also the hair style, which appears, in a number of variations, to be quite popular here among ladies of all ages. Come back Charlie’s Angels.

Anyhow, what the hell am I doing in Bulgaria, you may reasonably ask? Trouble with the creditors again?

Well, I am rushing round Europe promoting the Eadim educational programme. In the last two or three weeks I’ve done seminars in Slovenia (twice), Croatia, the Czech Republic, Hungary and now here. Poland, Portugal and Latvia are next, whilst the people in Ukraine had a basinful of me last year and said they’d settle for a video.

I rather like Sofia. In a curious way it reminds us of Cuba – lots of sunshine, crumbling socialist monuments and crumbling buildings of all ages. I expect when they get some European money they’ll smarten up no end.

Like Cuba, too, they seem to have been exploited by all and sundry for centuries, and people like s drink. Here it’s beer and rakia rather than rum.

But unlike Cuba - or the parts we saw - they have one or two wonderful churches. We entered a small one yesterday and attended a service, which was splendid, with absolutely no shortage of candles, genuflection, crossing in the orthodox manner, kissing of ikons, ringing of bells and a magnificent choir of ordinary people with some grand bass voices.

I was particularly taken with a lady who not only bowed after crossing herself but touched her feet each time. And there were plenty of times - about one every 30 seconds. The priest, fittingly, was very tall, full-bellied, distinguished-looking, bearded of course, with an wonderfully disdainful imperviousness to the many onlookers.

It all reminded me of seeing Boris Christoff, the great Bulgarian bass many years ago in Boris Godunov at Covent Garden.

That’s enough for now. I have to write a script for a client.