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June 2001 |
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Sunday 3 June The past ten days have not been easy. In fact, Friday 25 May was one of the worst days that I can remember. I had to go to London that day for a couple of meetings. In the first meeting, I was conducting the annual appraisal interview for one of the employees there. I obviously can't go into details about that, but it was an awkward interview. After that, I had to chair a committee meeting, and that did not go at all well. That was partly my fault, for not preparing thoroughly enough for the meeting. It seemed to drag on for ever, and it ended so inconclusively that I had to stay behind for a further meeting to try to pick up the pieces. By then it was too late for a visit to Chariots and I had to go straight to the station for the train back to Leeds. The worst part of the day was yet to come. When I got home, I found that Mary was in a really bad way. She has developed a whole range of serious allergies and chemical intolerances. In the past few weeks, her M.E. has been pretty much in remission, and she has been excited about the prospect of being able to lead a more or less normal life after over 13 years of illness. But she noticed that she was getting allergic reactions from various foods, and she has had to avoid alcohol, tea, coffee, and most wheat and dairy products. She has also been badly affected by chemical smells from anything like household cleaning products, deodorants or perfume. When I got home that Friday, she told me that all these allergies had quite suddenly got very much worse. She was having difficulty breathing, and had also become allergic to her beloved cats. We know someone (the wife of a colleague of mine) who has multiple allergies like that, and we know how very difficult it is to treat them, and how severely it has affected her life. Mary was depressed to think that the rest of her life might be blighted in this way. The next day, Saturday, we went to the doctor, who was not much help. There is an allergy clinic at Keighley, not far from Leeds, and Mary has made an appointment there. But they cannot see her until next Thursday. Meantime, we have been doing all we can to to make the house allergy free. The cats are confined to the utility room for the time being. They don't seem too unhappy there, because they have a comfortable bed there with an electrically heated pad, and they spend most of the time curled up there. We have cleaned the house and washed the covers on the sofas and cushions. Mary has gone onto a very strict diet (nothing but fruit, vegetables, meat and fish, with no processed foods of any kind). She has to stay on this for ten days, and then she can start to introduce other foods, one a day, so that she can identify which of them cause a reaction. She is coping pretty well with all of this, but she is still very apprehensive about whether the clinic will be able to do much to help her. Not everything has been bad during the last ten days. I went to Edinburgh, as planned, last weekend. I wondered whether I should leave Mary, but she said that she would rather be on her own so that she could start her "stone age" diet without me having to join in on it. On Sunday I went with my friend Allan and two other people for a day in the Highlands, and we climbed Schiehallion. This is one of the best known mountains in Scotland, and I have never climbed it before. It has recently been purchased by the John Muir Trust, and having become a life member of the Trust last year I feel like a part owner of the mountain. When we left Edinburgh at 8 a.m. it was drizzling, with very low cloud, and it looked as though we were going to have a wet, misty day in the hills. But during the hour and a half that it took us to reach our starting point, the cloud lifted and we had a fine day, with beautiful views from the summit down onto Loch Tummel and Loch Rannoch. This weekend we have had two surprise visitors. Steve phoned on Wednesday to say that he was in Cambridge and would be coming to stay for a few days. It's a long story why he had to come to England, and why Jo and Tom couldn't come too, so I'll skip that. It is at least four years since he was last here. We knew that this visit was going to take place some time, but we didn't know exactly when. It was great to see him again. Of course, he was very concerned about Mary, and it cheered her up a lot to see him. Then on Friday Nick phoned to ask if he could stay with us on Sunday night (today, that is). But when he heard that Steve would be leaving today, he asked if he could come on Saturday instead so that he could meet him. So last night they were both staying here. They got on very well together, as we knew they would. They are both in their early thirties and have a lot in common. Nick wants to go to Spain some time to visit Steve and Jo. I think he is quite envious of their lifestyle. I cooked a "stone age" dinner for the four of us yesterday evening—grilled salmon, new potatoes and stir fried vegetables—which was enjoyed by all. We cheated for dessert and had a shop bought apple strudel with cream (which Mary of course was unable to eat). In the three years that I have been keeping this journal, I don't think that I have ever left such a long time between entries except when we have been away on holiday. But as you can see, the past ten days have been busy, and also worrying. I hope that I won't be silent for so long again, and I hope I'll have better news to report after our visit to the clinic on Thursday.
The trouble with keeping an online journal is that when interesting things are happening there's no time to write about them, and when nothing is happening there's nothing to write about. Right now all sorts of things are happening, but I'm not going to have much time for journal entries. This afternoon Mary had her appointment at the allergy clinic. I took time off work to drive her there. The clinic is at Keighley, about three quarters of an hour's drive from Leeds. Because Mary is so sensitive to traffic fumes we took the back route over the moors, along an attractive little country lane with fine views over the Wharfe and Aire valleys. We were both impressed with the consultant at the clinic. He had his work cut out coping with Mary, who was impatient to be cured there and then. I thought at one point that she was about to grab him by the lapels and demand an injection to desensitise her to the cats so that she can cuddle them again. But he patiently explained that she should first finish the dietary regime that she has started, so that she can identify which foods to avoid, before he goes on to investigate other possible causes of allergies. He gave her a very thorough examination and spent a long time discussing her case history. Then she had a series of skin pricks to test for a wide range of allergies. Altogether the consultation lasted two hours, although we were only charged for one hour. It helped that the consultant had a dry sense of humour, and knew just how to deflect Mary's impatient demands without upsetting her. He seemed very confident that her condition is reversible and that she will not always have to live with these allergies. She was reassured by that, and she came away much more cheerful than before, despite not having had the instant cure that she was looking for. I didn't have time to say much here about Steve and Nick's visit last weekend, and it looks as though the same thing will happen this weekend. Liz and her boyfriend Paul are coming here tomorrow and will stay with us for a few days. She's not just coming to see her old parents, of course. The main reason for the visit is that an old school friend of hers is getting married on Saturday and she and Paul are invited to the wedding. But they will stay on here for a few days. It's a shame that they were not able to come at the same time that Steve was here. It would have been nice to have the whole of our little family here together. I can't remember when that last happened. I won't actually be here when Liz and Paul arrive tomorrow, as I have to be in London for the day. When I do get back here, I'll want to spend time with them, so I doubt whether I'll want to be posting entries here. (But I did want to air a few thoughts about today's general election, so maybe I'll find time for a short "election special" entry.)
Yesterday there was a General Election here in the UK. The result was determined by counting the ballot papers. (There was no other method available—we don't have a supreme court to decide these matters for us.) hehehe, I have been looking forward to saying that for quite a long time. The result of the election is that there will be little change from the previous parliament. The Labour party, or New Labour as it likes to call itself now, retains a very comfortable majority. It is fashionable to sneer at New Labour for selling out their radical principles and becoming indistinguishable from the Conservative party. There is some substance in this criticism. They have continued the Thatcher programme of privatising the nationalised industries, and on social issues they have a dismal record. They have done very little to improve our crumbling health, education and (privatised) railway systems. They promised us a Freedom of Information Act, but the Act that they actually introduced gave Ministers even more powers to withhold information than they had before. In the same way, they brought in a Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act that was supposed to ensure privacy of communication. In fact, it gave the ultra-reactionary Home Secretary Jack Straw almost unlimited powers to intercept telephone calls and email. Worst of all, they abandoned their half-hearted attempt to repeal the infamously homophobic Section 28 of Margaret Thatcher's Local Government Act. But on the central issue of running the economy, the Labour government has done remarkably well. For the first time in my life, we have had a government that did not try to bribe the voters with a giveaway budget before the election, which has always previously resulted in an inflationary "boom and bust" economic cycle. The result is that the British economy is now in as good a shape as it has ever been, and it is just possible that the re-elected government will start to use its economic strength to rediscover the radical values of the old Labour party. At least, I am optimistic enough to hope so. The biggest question facing the new government is whether the UK should join the euro zone. The Conservative party's hysterical "save the pound" campaign seems to have done them no good at all, and the way is now open for the UK to join the common European currency area. The only trouble there is that as the political case for joining the euro zone becomes stronger, the economic case gets weaker. I have always been in favour of Britain joining, but the euro has not exactly been a success so far, and there is not much evidence that the European countries have the fiscal discipline to make a common currency work. I voted for the Liberal Democrats yesterday, as I always do. Apart from liking their policies better than those of the Labour or Conservative parties, I feel naturally at home supporting a minority party. I think I have mentioned here before that I am always in the minority, in any situation whatever. But the Lib Dems did so well yesterday that they may replace the Conservatives as the main opposition party before long. I can't see them ever forming a government, though. If they did, I would probably have to transfer my allegiance to some other minority party. Apart from the Lib Dem success, the main feature of the election was the shamefully low turnout. Less than 60% of the electorate bothered to vote, and in some inner city areas the turnout was below 40%. That is not a healthy sign in a democracy.
It has been really nice having Liz and Paul staying here. They arrived on Friday, while I was in London. On Saturday, they were invited to the wedding of Liz's friend Kirsty, at Hazelwood Castle Hotel near York. The arrangement was that I would drive them there, leaving here at 2.30 so that they would get there well in time for the ceremony at 3.30. It was funny to see them getting ready to go, because they are an exact rerun of Mary and me (though Liz would kill me if she heard me say so). Paul was all ready to go by about 2.15, looking very smart in a suit and white shirt, and he sat patiently reading the paper while Liz fussed around upstairs making herself look beautiful. Paul gently reminded her once or twice that it was time to go, but she took no notice. Then she came rushing downstairs at 2.45 saying "Okay, where are you? What are you waiting for? I'm all ready to go." I have heard those exact words so many times from Mary that I have lost count. It was just as well that we had left so much time for the journey because we were held up by roadworks. We arrived at the hotel with ten minutes to spare. The hotel is a very fancy place, converted from an old monastery. There were about 150 guests, and the reception must have cost Kirsty's parents at least £20,000. (They can afford it.) Liz has always said that she would never want an expensive wedding. Whenever she says that, Mary and I tell each other that when she is about 35 she will suddenly change her mind and demand a sumptuous ceremony, with a carriage drawn by four white horses to take her to the chapel. I hope Kirsty's wedding hasn't put thoughts like that into her mind. Liz and Paul came home by taxi some time in the small hours of Sunday morning, long after I was asleep. They slept in late that morning and then cooked a big greasy fry-up for brunch, with sausages, bacon, tomatoes, eggs, mushrooms and baked beans. Poor Mary is still on her exclusion diet and couldn't eat any of it. Paul had to leave on Monday, to go back to work, but Liz has stayed here for a few more days to revise for her osteopathy exams which start in a couple of weeks. Mary and I both like Paul a lot. He is very gentle and patient with Liz, and he seemed quite at home and relaxed staying with us, although it is only the third time he has been here. I think that he and Liz are ideally suited to each other. (Well I suppose I would think that—they are so similar to me and Mary). When Liz was about 15 I came across a poem called She Pops Home, by Cal Clothier, in one of the Sunday newspapers. As soon as I saw it, I knew that it described how Liz would be in a few years' time, and I made a photocopy of it. Sure enough, by the time she was at University it described her perfectly. I put a copy of the poem in her 21st birthday card. Nine years later, she no longer fits the description quite so well, though as it happens the washing machine did break down this week, and of course she has monopolised the telephone most of the time.
At the age of 30, she no longer horrifies us with her irresponsibility. Perhaps she is growing up at last. She leaves us tomorrow, and we shall be sad to see her go. She lights our pond like a kingfisher.
Today is the summer solstice, which means that summer must have begun. In these northerly climes, you wouldn't know it was summer unless the calendar told you so. After a pleasantly mild spell of spring in May, it has reverted to cold, cloudy, showery weather here, and the daytime temperature rarely reaches even 60°F. By way of compensation, the days are really long at this time of year. Today the sun rose well before 5 a.m., and it is still quite light now at 9.30 p.m. When I see other online journallers grumbling about how hot it is where they live, I wonder whether I would want to swap places with them. On the whole, I think that for as long as I am working for a living, I would prefer to live in a cold climate. It's much easier to concentrate at work when the weather outside is uninviting. But retirement is only a few years away now, and once I no longer have to sit in an office all day I think that I shall definitely want to live somewhere warmer. Maybe we shall revive our plans to buy a little place in Spain near where Steve and Jo live. That would probably be much better for Mary's health too. Mary is still in quite a bad state with the allergies and chemical sensitivities that suddenly hit her a few weeks ago. The consultant at the allergy clinic was optimistic that they can do a lot to reduce the effects of the allergies, but it is going to be a slow process. First, she has to identify the foods that she is reacting to, which means that she has to follow a very strict diet for about a month. Then she has to go back to the clinic for further tests before they can start to try to desensitise her. Meantime, she is more or less confined to the house, because as soon as she goes out she starts to react to traffic fumes and other smells. She can't go anywhere where she meets other people because she has become ultra-sensitive to any kind of scent, even fabric conditioner on people's clothes. When the repairman came to the house to fix the washing machine the other day, she almost collapsed when she smelt his aftershave. (I was at work at the time, so I can't say whether there was anything else about the repairman that might have caused her to go weak at the knees.) The worst part of it for me is that she needs to have me around to look after the cats and do the shopping etc. She will have to manage on her own for the next week while I am in Moscow. But I have had to cancel my annual walking holiday in Scotland, which was to have been the first week of July. That is a real blow for me. The visit to Russia is a business trip. I am Publications Secretary for the London Mathematical Society, which is the main learned society for math in the UK. We have a fairly extensive publications programme (mainly research journals, but a few book series too). The profit that we make from selling journals is the main source of income for the Society, and being Publications Secretary is a bit like being the CEO of a small company with an annual turnover of about £1 million (except that I don't get paid for it). Some of the journals that we publish are translations of Russian academic journals, and we have a Management Group meeting with the Russians every year at this time. Last June they came to London, so this time it is our turn to go to Moscow. This will be the third time I have been there, so the novelty has worn off and I'm not particularly looking forward to it. But our hosts there look after us very well, and they usually treat us to banquets with all kinds of Russian delicacies like smoked fish, caviar and vodka. On Sunday evening they are taking us to the Bolshoi Theatre to see a performance of Verdi's Nabucco. I am pleased about that, because they usually arrange for us to see a ballet, which is not my favourite art form. The opera will make a welcome change. Apart from that, the comments I made about our previous visit will probably apply more or less unchanged to this trip. If Moscow next week is anything like it was this time two years ago, it will be a darned sight warmer and sunnier than Leeds is now. I leave here early tomorrow morning, and I get back from Russia late next Wednesday evening. Expect a travelogue towards the end of next week.
I went to London last Friday for a Council meeting of the London Math Soc, followed by a lecture, a reception and a dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Nick came to the lecture and the dinner, accompanied by his friend Colin, a hunky young New Zealander with blond dreadlocks. I sat next to Nick at dinner, and we talked about his plans for the future. He has fallen out with his employers and is currently without a job. He is seriously thinking of emigrating to New Zealand, where he worked for a couple of years in the 1990s, and it looks as though he could easily get a job at the University of Auckland. I shall be sorry if he does. He says that he would come back to visit Britain quite frequently, but even so, he would be a hell of a long way away most of the time. Nick and Colin are both sporty types, but a bit feckless. The previous weekend they had taken a couple of kayaks down to the south coast, with the idea of canoeing round Thorney Island. They set off from the west side of the island and paddled right round to the east side, and it was only then that they realised that Thorney Island isn't an island at all. They had to carry the kayaks about a mile across the neck of the peninsula to get back to their starting point. Duh! That's very typical of Nick. Don't get the idea that there is any emotional involvement between Nick and Colin. Nick is blatantly hetero, and although Colin looked like a very sexy young guy to me, I'm sure that Nick doesn't see him that way. In fact, one of Nick's motives for going to New Zealand seems to be that his ex-girlfriend Simona has connections there, and I think Nick half hopes that they may get together again. I think I have mentioned here before that Mary is always teasing Nick and me that men ought to be more emotionally open with each other, and that we should embrace and kiss each other when we meet, just as she does with her female (and male) friends. Nick and I usually greet each other with a hug, but that's as far as it goes. But after the dinner, when everyone got up to go, Nick said to me, "Okay, let's kiss goodnight." So we did (only on the cheek, of course—you weren't expecting anything more than that, were you?), in front of a group of slightly surprised mathematicians. Hmm, what was the boy thinking of? In fact, I think it was just a typical piece of Nick bravado. He wanted to impress the London Math Soc people with how well he knows a senior member of the Society. Sad to say, I didn't get to kiss Colin, who is far better looking than Nick. I stayed overnight at the home of an LMS colleague in east London. We had to set our alarms for 5.30 in order to get to Heathrow in time for the morning flight to Moscow, where we were to spend the next four days. I'll have something to say about that in the next entry.
We arrived at Moscow's Sheremetyevo airport at four in the afternoon last Saturday, and immediately ran into the biggest possible contrast between Russia and the USA, namely the way in which their immigration authorities work. Passing through immigration control is a tiresome procedure in most countries, but the US Immigration Service has been totally transformed in recent years. Not only do most European visitors no longer require a visa to enter the USA, but the immigration officials are are efficient and friendly. When I landed at San Francisco airport a couple of months ago, the entire 400 passengers from our flight were ushered through immigration in about five minutes. There was a row of 25 booths, and a single line of passengers waiting to present their passports. When you got to the front of the line you were directed to the first empty booth, where you showed your passport and were waved through with a cheery smile. It never used to be like that, believe me, but nowadays this is a branch of the government bureaucracy that does its job really well. Not so in Russia, where the immigration procedure has not changed at all since the days of communism. We were herded into a claustrophobically small waiting area with a line of eight booths at the far end, and a packed crowd of passengers from previous flights were waiting in several lines. There was virtually no sign of movement, and it gradually became apparent that only three or four of the eight booths were staffed. From time to time, one of the booths would close, and so people started merging from one line into another. Then some time later another booth would open, and lines bifurcated as people tried to get to the newly opened window. At the front of the line, each person would be kept waiting for about five minutes while a humourless official minutely examined their documents before stamping their passport and allowing them through. It took us an hour and three quarters to get through immigration control and into the baggage claim area. This is the third time that I have been to Moscow, and each time this miserable procedure has been the worst part of the trip. Previously it has taken about an hour to get through immigration control, but this time was the worst ever. Our hosts drove us from the airport to the hotel. I was wondering what sort of hotel it would be. The first time I went to Moscow we stayed in a real flea pit called the Academy Hotel, where the plumbing didn't work, there were cockroaches in the bathrooms, the food in the restaurant was totally uneatable and the service was slow, surly and inefficient. The second time, we tactfully suggested to our hosts that we would prefer to stay somewhere else, and they booked us into the Ukraine Hotel. This is one of the landmarks of Moscow, one of seven massive skyscrapers built on the orders of Stalin as monuments to the triumph of socialist architecture. It was extremely comfortable and elegant, and a very welcome change from the Academy. For this visit, we had been booked into a hotel called the President, which I knew nothing about, and we wondered if it would be as good as the Ukraine.
On Saturday evening my London Math Soc colleague Susan and I went out for dinner at a nearby Georgian restaurant. We had arranged to meet a Dutch mathematician who was also visiting Moscow. We have been negotiating to publish the journal that he edits (which is why I visited Amsterdam in February), and the LMS Council formally approved the contract last Friday. So we were able to sign the contract in the restaurant and drink a toast to the success of the new venture. I thought at first that it was going to be a difficult evening, because there was live music in the restaurant from a group of male singers, which made conversation difficult. They sang very loudly, in the style of a barbershop quartet (except that there were five of them). But then they stopped singing, and we were able to hear ourselves speaking. The meal was excellent. Georgian cuisine is very distinctive, with piquant spicy sauces. I had a pork fillet marinated in a pomegranate sauce and barbecued. Delicious. After a while, we noticed that the barbershop quintet had assembled round the next table, where there was a family evidently celebrating a birthday of something of the sort. The singers serenaded them with some ancient folk song, a slow but intense chant with harsh, bare harmonies. I shut my eyes and imagined that I was hearing a troop of Cossack soldiers singing around a camp fire on the distant steppes of Asia. It was the sort of sound that echoes in the mind for days afterwards. I don't seem to have got very far with the Russian trip tonight. I'll try to finish it off tomorrow.
The main change I noticed in Moscow, compared with my previous visit, was the complete absence of beggars. Two years ago, in most metro stations and subways you could see desperately poor looking elderly people pleading for money, or offering to sell pathetically old worn clothing for a few roubles. On my first trip to Moscow, in January 1998, there were even more of them. This time, there were none to be seen. That could mean either that the police have swept them away from the city centre, or that there is now much less grinding poverty than before. I suspect a bit of each. The other noticeable change is that there are far more goods in the shops, for those that can afford them. At the official exchange rate of about 50 roubles to the pound, prices seemed to be pretty much comparable to those in Britain. But to someone on a typical Russian salary, even everyday goods must seem dauntingly expensive. For "new Russians" and tourists. there are plenty of shops and restaurants where prices are quoted in "exchange units" rather than roubles. An exchange unit is equivalent to 29 roubles. It just so happens that this is same as the value of a U.S. dollar, though it is politically incorrect to point this out. But if you offer to pay in dollars, these will be happily accepted as valid exchange units. Our first full day in Moscow, Sunday, was a free day, and we slept in late before going to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. This was in the form of a self service buffet, with a huge choice of dishes including some interesting looking pancakes and other cooked dishes. But I knew that we would be eating far too much at lunch and dinner throughout our stay, so I just had a glass of orange juice, a bowl of fruit salad and a small slice of bread and honey, with a cup of good Russian tea. After breakfast, we were taken on a conducted tour of the diamond vault in the Kremlin. This is not the sort of thing that normally appeals to me, but we had a very good English speaking guide who made the visit interesting by explaining the history of many of the treasures there. I have to admit that some of the items, such as the coronation crown of Catherine the Great, were extremely spectacular. After a leisurely lunch, we only had a couple of free hours in the hotel before going out again. I spent the time in my room, idly surfing through the TV channels. They had the BBC World Service and CNN News as well as several Russian stations. The interesting thing about the Russian stations was the commercials. It surprised me to see them advertising things like microwave ovens. Evidently some Russians can afford to buy such things. Then we were taken to the Bolshoi Theatre for an excellent performance of Verdi's Nabucco. The highlight was the chorus of the Hebrew captives, which brought the house down. We were surprised to discover that this production is the first time that Nabucco has been performed in Moscow. But in view of the history of anti-Semitism in Russia perhaps it's not so surprising. We thought that it is ironic that the audience should have responded so enthusiastically to this story of heroic Jewish resistance to their Babylonian captors, given the blatant discrimination faced by Russian Jews until very recently. Maybe it's equally ironic that many of the Russian Jews who emigrated to Israel have been among the staunchest proponents of the illegal West Bank settlements that have contributed to the oppression of the Palestinian people. Oops, am I being too provocative there? We walked back to the hotel after the opera, through Aleksandrovsky Park on the opposite side of the Kremlin from Red Square. At 11 p.m. it was still quite light and the whole area was full of tourists and locals enjoying the fine summer evening, sitting at pavement bars and cafes or strolling through the park. In one square there was a stage where some sort of free pop concert was taking place. The whole atmosphere was just like a western european city, not at all what I would have expected. Monday and Tuesday were working days, except that on Tuesday morning there were a couple of free hours during which I went to the Pushkin art museum. This has a fabulous collection of masterpieces (some of it looted from Germany in 1945), ranging from the Italian renaissance through to the 20th century. At one end of the gallery there was a temporary exhibition of works by Andy Warhol, including some of the famous portraits of Marilyn Monroe. I wonder why she is always described as a "gay icon"? I never found anything iconic about her. Perhaps I'm just not gay enough. On Monday evening there was a banquet in the Russian Academy of Sciences. As usual, this meant an endless succession of vodka toasts. I always find it hard to know what to say on these occasions, but this time I had no difficulty. I described the view from my hotel room (see yesterday's entry), of the statue of Peter the Great. In his raised right hand he is holding a document. I said that it looked as though he had written a paper that needed translating, and I proposed a toast to all the authors and translators who make our joint publishing venture so successful. Okay, that may not sound very smart, but it struck the right note, and the Russians found it amusing. It has become traditional that on the final evening of these meetings the London Math Soc hosts a dinner for the Russians. This took place in another Georgian restaurant, the Pirosmani (named after a famous Georgian artist, so I was told). It is one of the best restaurants in Moscow, and in the foyer there is a montage of photos of some of the celebrities who have dined there. We spotted a very familiar face in one of the photos, which had the caption Since I was presiding at this function, I had to propose the first toast. That was easy enough, I just welcomed the visitors and thanked them for all the hospitality that we had received. We then settled down to a very good meal. For the main course, I had a shashlik, a rack of spicy ribs of lamb. Every few minutes, vodka glasses were raised for another toast, and before long someone proposed a toast to "Mr Nice Guy" (meaning me, of course). He made some very flattering comments about how much the Russians appreciate doing business with me. I had to respond to that, of course, and there was only one way to do so. I thanked them warmly for saying such "nice" things, but warned them that from now on there would be No More Mr Nice Guy. I don't even know where that catch phrase originated, but it is sufficiently familiar that the Russians had all heard of it, and they were duly amused. That made a very satisfying conclusion to the trip. On Wednesday we left for the tedious journey back to London and thence to Leeds. If you're still wondering,
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She Pops Home, by Cal Clothier
In fact, it turned out to be the most luxurious hotel I have ever stayed in. There were armed security guards at the gates, because this is the hotel that is used to house visiting heads of state and other VIPs. My room overlooked the Moskva River, and I looked out directly across to the remarkable statue of Peter the Great (the founder of the Russian navy), standing at the helm of his ship. At any rate, that is what the statue is supposed to represent. The story that the Muscovites tell is that the statue was originally meant to represent Columbus looking out at the new world, but that no American city could be persuaded to buy it so they had to erect it in Moscow. To the right of the statue you can see the towering hulk of the Ukraine Hotel on the skyline.
. (Even if you don't know the Cyrillic alphabet, you should be able to decipher that.)