Thursday 22^nd July 2010

It sounds unlikely but Poor Little Rich Gays support an orphanage deep in the Bulgarian mountains.

Have you ever been to Bulgaria?

Prada completely absent. In fact, it’s frightful, unless you like wildflowers and a picturesque rural scene arrested at about 1905 in English terms. The honey’s got a pine-cone in it.

Years ago, Miles Kent, great friend of my oldest friend, Anthony Mottram (with whom I’m not currently on speakers owing to classic complexity of Poor Little Rich Gay relationships and his love of the young) was walking in Bulgaria. He  came across the children’s home at Shiroka Luka, where orphan children (or more often unwanted) were living in primitive conditions, with 10 pence a day for food, and no toys, art materials or entertainment of any kind.  He founded a charity. A few hundred pounds could make a huge difference.  He raised much more than that.

But we go beyond writing cheques or drawing up in the Bentley at a Charity Gala. No, we actually go there. Every summer Anthony Mottram’s ‘consulting’ business, which is found all over the East and Central of Europe, sponsors a three-week Drama Festival, run by a group of professional actors and a director from Sofia. This culminates in a loose kind of ‘performance’, based on a theme, which last year was India, with dancing, music, story-telling and a tremendous finale which makes all the Poor Little Rich Gays cry.

Last year, as you may remember, I went with Robert Nevil. This year, owing to still being kept in Abu Graiub by Anthony Mottram, I went to Virgil Grayson’s villa near St Tropez instead and RN set forth with his miniature Indian doctor friend, Arjan Bose.

Oh, they did suffer. Flies, flies, flies! All the cows are housed under the living quarters in the village, you see! Belting wet heat, terrible stomach upsets. Lovely traditional Bulgarian Bagpipes starting up without warning.

And the food, usually too bad in Bulgaria, has careered downhill into Hell. See graphs below. Mottram harangued a restaurant owner after a ghastly pink plastic raw chicken lunch. ‘What about organic?’ he went.  ‘Locally sourced?’ ‘What about applying heat of some intensity ?’ One of his employees was reluctantly translating.

This does sound like Mottram. What he hasn’t done to flush out the Communist residue from the East and Central of Europe.  Poor Little Rich Gays like something or someone to look after, improve, help and tend. It might be a country, or a plant, or a person, often young.

As for the orphans’ show, after rehearsals, fleas were seen leaping out of their just worn costumes.

Numbers are down. Many have been sold into adoption by untrained social workers; others were snatched from rehearsals into fostering. This is progress. But what about the perf?  Massed ranks needed to gain full impact. Besides the orphans love the drama festival. They all cry when it’s over.

Anthony Mottram, Robert Nevil and Arjan Bose led a delegation to persuade the local mayors that the orphanage is essential – can you imagine? Three Poor Little Rich Gays in outfits, with accessories!

In the end, the show came off with a full compliment. Sensational Inca finale – it was a Mexican theme this year. Some of the children are star performers, others sub-zero hopeless but all wild to go on and display, such is the brilliance of their teachers.

Let it not be forgotten that Anthony Mottram’s Poor Little Rich Gay money allowed a fully-costumed drama given by orphans in Bulgaria’s wilds.

Sinister Pink Delicacy Served on Traditional Bulgarian Ware

Bulgarian Hotel Decor