Meeting George
Daskalow
by Jilliana
Ranicar-Breese
In the 1968 I
was a travel agent working for Global Tours. This
agency was the third largest in the UK and was
situated in bustling Oxford Street.
My job on reception was to book European package
holidays, welcome the incoming clients from
Australia, South Africa and America where Global
had branch offices and book them on European
tours, book theatre tickets or simply just
welcome them. I was the only one on reception who
spoke Italian and French. Every day was exciting
because of meeting international people. They
would queue up waiting to be served. They were
three of us on reception constantly busy with the
demanding job.
Then I saw him. I said to myself I wanted him to
be in my queue. My heart skipped a beat. It had
never happened before or that matter since. He
had dark sideburns and wore big glasses and an
English cap. He was dressed in English style but
he looked very foreign. I was intrigued as he was
older, wiser and looked creative and cultured.
I was in luck. He came to me saying he wanted to
book a week In Mallorca with his girlfriend. His
name was George Daskalow originally from Bulgaria
but with an Australian passport but a British
resident as he was the Bulgarian broadcaster for
the BBC world news at Bush House.
I asked for his phone number assuring him I would
find double accommodation. He said slowly,
looking right into my face, that he hoped I would
phone him!
That was the beginning of my affair with George.
I was fascinated when he described how he had
escaped the communist regime with his lifelong
friend Demetri. They both got under the train
going to Istanbul holding on for dear life until
the train slowed down in Turkey and they both
jumped off. Somehow they got to Istanbul and were
put in a detention camp awaiting the authorities
decision where to send them. George had news that
Bulgarians were discriminated against in America
but Australia was accepting professionals and
George was a trained architect.
Years passed and George now, an Australian
citizen, was bored at the lifestyle in Australia
and craved a change of cultural life and another
profession. He got to London and walked into Bush
House telling the world service that they needed
a Bulgarian service which they did not have! He
won the director over and a job broadcasting was
created just for him. By the time I met him in
the 70’s, he had been at the BBC ten years.
I was never George’s girlfriend but he was
in my life for many years and called me Jilka. He
loved his green Morgan car and we would often go
for a ride in it. The car was his love but
expensive to buy because it was handmade. He
spent most of what little money he had on running
the car living frugally which, coming from a
communist country, did not bother him.
He taught me some Bulgarian which I remember
today and can even say in his language ‘I’m
hungry for sex!’
Written 29/11/24 in Nightingale.
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