The night before has not been kind to me and I reach for the Nurofen for only the second time on the adventure, the other time too was for similar purposes. It's still cold but light outside. I look at the time and find it's 10:30. I crawl outside and the sunshine breathes new life into me. I shake an apple off the tree for breakfast and lay down on my matress on my silver foil blanket basking in the sun like a cat. During my sunbathing session, the first since I've been away really, if you don't count drying off after a swim, various people and animals use the garden as a thoroughfare. They all give me a cheery hello or handshake as they pass the half white Engleski half dead on the floor. Dian appears from nowhere, he has been to Sofia this morning to sort out his residency. He says he will be back later with some friends. It's been a while since I have had a proper wash, Belgrade to be precise, and the sun bathing, cycling, hangover and lack of a shower do not make very good bedfellows. I make the most of having access to a tap and try out one of the only things I brought with me that I haven't used yet: my pocket shower. It's a black waterproof bag with a tap come shower attachment on the bottom with some thin rope attatched. Fill it with water, let it warm in the sun hang it up and you have seven minutes of shower. I do all this and change into my trunks so as not scare any through walkers too much and have a well deserved wash. Drying off in the sun I feel alive again, and slowly pack up. I wait until 13:30 for Dian, in the mean time I'm entertained by a gang of 8 year olds who have come to the garden to get apples from the tree. They shimmy up, shake a branch and the others catch. They have high standards though and discard everything that comes down. No sign of D Man and I enquire at both sets of shops, but my pronouciation of his name isn't good enough and they think I'm a jibbering idiot. I head off for the border. It's pretty dead and I sail through, even with my bottle of schnapps that Dian has somehow secreted on my person. Bulgaristan is not very inviting as far looks go in this part of the world but a whole coach load of Bulgaristanis wave at me as I go through the border. 10kms up the road I stop at a super retro roadside cafe and have the worst cup of coffee in a very long time. The clocks have gone forward an hour as I cross the border and the sun does not set until 7.30pm, but it starts to get a bit chilly at 6ish so I stop at petrol station and fill up with water. A track leads into a field over the road and I head down it. Making sure to pitch the tent in direct view of the sun in the morning, the reasoning being that it will dry out and warm up quicker. The view is beautiful looking across the plain towards the mountains. It's also bloody freezing and this time I make a concious effort to wear my clothes in the most effective way to stay warm. I also put my blanket under my matress and up over the sides. In my summer sleeping bag with a massive hole in I feel like a hotdog in a bun. I know I know a sausage in a bun. You know what I mean. Hotdog style yeah. Still freezing cold though. I made the decision when leaving that I could manage with my summer sleeping bag rather than my warm one. This would save room and weight. I dont think I appreciated how good my thermal underwear is though, which I did not bring. Brrrrrrr. Good stars though.