Moscow calling

Trains so far:
DLR to Canning Town
Jubilee Line to Waterloo
Eurostar to Brussels
'18:16 Platform 16' to Moscow.

How very exciting, all that way by rail. The journey so far has been comfortable and on time (except for the Eurostar, which was 18 minutes delayed).

We had a very small, but perfectly ingenious, cabin on the international train which consisted of a row of seats that turned into one bunk and the other pulled out of the wall. In the corner was a little sink and a bathroom cabinet, complete with shaving socket!

We found ourselves resorting to the ancient art of the Mime for communication as no-one spoke English, French, Italian, German or Spanish. And we can only say mornin'! and thank you in Russian.

The scenery passing our window varied from golden-hued forests of Poland to the urban grey snow-sprinkled misery of Russia. There was some confusion at the border with Belarus as to which country we were entering. It turned out the customs was for Russia, which may cause us some problems when we try to enter Mongolia as I don't think we had the 'correct form stamped'.

Anyway, Moscow is pretty much as I expected it but a bit colder! We have so far seen St Basil's (something I have wanted to do for about 20 years), Red Square (named after the original brick flooring not the red of Communism) the Bolshoi Theatre, some of the 'wedding cake' buildings and a crazy market which sold everything avaliable on this vast continent.

And now, a rare appearance from TOH! Take it away darlink ...

"If there ever was a World Championship of Obstinancy, the Russians would win hands down. This morning we spent an hour-and-a-half gradually losing the will to live as we debated with various gulag-bound Soviets whether the voucher we possess, which states 'breakfast included' actually entitled us to the meal in question.
"No breakfast" said the dining hall babushkas. "Speak to the tourist company," said the hotel reception staff. "Sorry computer says no breakfast," said the tourist company's rep when she eventually turned up.

We wandered round Izmaliovsky Park flea market in the morning. All the Soviet era badges, uniforms and books that you could possibly want to have confiscated at customs. Oh, and an abundance of furs, chess sets and 'Faberge' eggs. Two bears cruelly chained up in a tiny park outside.

We spent the rest of the day exploring the majestic Moscow metro system, which is a museum in its own right. Millions of roubles of poor people's taxes were lavished in the 1930s creating a network of staions, each with its own subterranean marvels of chandeliers, mosaics, bronze statues, paintings, marble, alabaster, stucco and mile-high escalators. Later we had time to wander round a couple of the 'wedding cake' Socialist realism monuments to Stalinism's excesses which ring Moscow."

There, a rare guest appearance, and one well made.

Which leaves me to say just this, we are surviving on a 'vegetarian' diet of salmon and raw cabbage. Yum!

Boring Brussels

I have been to Brussels once before and found it pretty dull. This time the sun was shining and we found it pretty but still dull.

Luckliy, we were only in town for four hours - just enough time to re-buy all the pot noodles and snacks for the train which we left in carrier bags in our hall way. And get mercilessly overcharged for two pots of average moules frites.

And they're off

Well, we are finally off on the big trip.
Those of you who know me personally, can follow our progress on the posh new blog provided for us by the Sister-in-law (when it stops being broken and accepts new posts) and for those who don't, I will no doubt be blogging here on a not-so-posh site which never seems to be down.

And for the record - Jerry Hall was possibly even worse than that dismal production of High Society. Avoid this show like avian flu.

Happy Birthday dear Wyebird

Another year older! The horror was lessened enormously by TOH getting up early and making a lovely birthday breakfast of smoked salmon and scrambled egg with toast, coffee and pain au chocolat!

I also had lots of cards to open and some very nice gifts from my generous friends. TOH also bought lots of lovely food things from M&S for my lunch!

Thinking back to the days when I would just receive a phone call from my dad on my birthday, having a wonderful and thoughtful husband around for them is definitely a good thing.

Tonight we are going to see Jerry Hall in High Society. I put it that way because from the reviews seeing Jerry Hall is going to be better than seeing High Society. But then you can't always trust the reviews.

We are off in exactly one week. Panic is beginning to set in about a) getting everything ready; b) How we will cope being away for three months; and c) what will happen to TOH's business while he is away. Luckily for me, my job should just carry on like nothing happened but TOH's work is based on mantaining a decent customer base.

Oh well, it's probably too late to start worrying now - we are literally off in seven days' time!

Bon voyage

Time is running out to get everything organised for the Big Trip. We have visas, tickets, some hotel bookings and an enormous pile of washing to do.

Last night, all our bestest friends met in a chain pub in London town for some farewell drinkies. A hard core of revellers went on to Freedom - the straight-friendly gay bar, or is it a gay-friendly straight bar? - for late night beverages.

Panic about getting everything done is subsiding slowly even though I still have to sort the boat out, get all my childhood rubbish out of my dad's house and tackle that enormous pile of washing.

Go and see the Wallace and Gromit film: it is plastacine magic!

Panic in the streets of Poplar

I'm not sleeping - every night about 4am, I wake up panicking about the boat and getting my dad ready to move.

I am renting out the Ganges and I have much to do to get it ready for the new guys. And my dad's house - there is 30 years of acculmulated shite to shift through. Aaarggh.

But by way of relaxing, TOH and I went to see Kinky Boots last night. It was a top film. Chiwetel Ejiofor was absolutely fantastic in it. His performance alone lifted it from being a painfully obvious, mediocre British film to something quite special in its own little way.

It's good to see a local boy done good. He grew up in Forest Gate, just down the road to us!

This morning, we went to Nikki the photographer and finally sorted out how we are going to display our wedding photos! Just three months after the event. And even then we won't be printing them off until we get back from the big trip ...

And then to dad's via Sainsbury's to carry on going through his gear. Luckily, my brother Jason had been there and ruthlessly thrown most of it away so there probably isn't that much left to do. I just have to be ruthless with my childhood stuff and ditch it all. But it is hard because I am too sentimental.

The girls

Drinks with Sara, Gail and Liz. We met in a nasty wine bar in Victoria which was impossible for my tourist eyes to find. I never go to that soulless part of town and was quite grumpy when I arrived.

But the girls soon snapped me out of my mood and a very nice evening was had by all.

Cranberry and vodkas, pizza and gossip. The set menu for a proper girls' night.

Vomiting into the gaping orifices of Jesus

Yes you read that correctly.

I went to see Stuart Lee with Steve, Jo and Sarah last night and he seemed hell-bent on shocking the living bejeezus out of the audience.

He came on stage cutting quite a tragic figure in black denim drainpipe jeans, new Doc Martins and an untucked shirt - not a great look for someone approaching their 40s - and began to weave his comedy tale.

There were a lot of good lines about how he'd slept through the 7/7 bombings and was baffled to get 30 texts all asking if he was alright. Particularly as he had had a shitty year as the fundamentalist Christians had shut down his Jerry Springer The Opera show and taken him to the High Court for blasphamy.

He then did a string about how Joe Pasquale nicks fringe comedians' material, or at least his 'writers' do. By going to see comedians and writing down their stuff.

All of this lead to a hidious tale about getting so drunk he was visited by Jesus Christ, who eventually offered his orifices up as a recepticle for Stuart's puke.

I think he was utterly ashamed of himself for writing this material but he wanted to make the point that the Christians will never be able to stop free speech and bully those who do not believe in their symbols.

But he finished the tale by admitting that he also wanted to write a joke that Joe Pasquale couldn't steal.

Lion king

Last night we went to the theatre. It was a surprise treat organised for me by the lovely TOH.

I guessed we were going to see Billy Elliot but over an average meal of haddock kegeree he handed me tickets to The Lion King! I used to joke every time we went to London town that we were going to see The Lion King and we never did, basically because TOH never wanted to.

The theatre auditorium was covered with golden cherubs and painted scenes of general decadence. The 'royal boxes' either side of the stage were filled with bongos and congos and various percussion instruments. From our position in the upper circle the flautist looked peculiarly like my dad.

The show itself was visually stunning enough to mask its mediocre plot. The performances brilliantly disguised the sentimental Disney songs and limpid script. It was rather like an extremely family-friendly pantomime, slightly marred by the fact there were children actors in it.

Perfect if you had children of your own ... perhaps not the best thing for two cynical adults.

But it was a lovely night out, and a nice schoolnight treat.

Lazy Wyebird

Or should that be busy Wyebird?

The past week or so has passed in something of a whirl. Dad's broken foot had to be pinned back together so I have spent a lot of time dealing with his move while he was stuck in hospital. Most of that time was spent convincing him that his planned move to Australia can still go ahead ...

I've seen three films:
Pride and Prejudice
Goal!
History Of Violence

All of them very good. P&P - lush costume drama, we all know how it ends; Goal! - silly, predictable football film; History Of Violence - slow-burning but watchable thriller starring Vigo Mortensen, who is actually very unattractive without his Aragorn hair and beard combo.

Trip planning has consumed every other spare moment!