MY LAST DAY IN ENGLAND...

This will probably be the last post for a few days, as I am flying out to Russia tomorrow and it might take me a while to find my feet. So I'll try to make this an interesting post. Actually, for interesting just read 'long' as I doubt I'm going to get much sleep tonight anyway.

Today then, I went down to the Consulate as planned (the trains were running - spot on!), and collected my visa. That wasn't quite so spot on, due to the new 'queuing' system they have with the turnstile-style gates and high-tech surveillance equipment that I must have told you about before. I won't go into boring details but the upshot was I had to queue in the cold for over an hour before the staff deigned to grant me admittance. And that was only after I resorted to pushing the intercom button every ten seconds for a good five minutes while simultaneously waving and grinning like a monkey at the CCTV. A risky tactic, I admit, but it paid off. And the standing around in the cold was good practise I admit.

Also did a lot of panicky last-minute shopping and photocopying today, and started packing (my room currently looks like a bomb's hit it; and yes, insert joke here). The only remaining task is to cram everything into my stinky suitcase, which I think I'll leave until tomorrow morning.

I had another e-mail from Denis, the secretary at Dubravushka, today. Only he isn't the secretary any more; the big news is he's left and is working for a free-ads paper in Obninsk. This is very *good* news, as the school used to work him like an ox - they knew that if they turfed him out, it would be national service for him. And trust me, you don't want to be in the Russian army. I guess Denis must have passed the age where he has to do service and so is now free to do what he wants. I hope he's happy in his new job. I really wish him well, and I'll try to keep in touch.

Forgot to mention yesterday that I managed to recover my scarf which I had left round a friend's house about three weeks previously. It's funny how little things take on great importance. but I have my scarf back now, to go with my hat collection (2 - the most hats I have ever owned in my life), and my newly purchased gloves. Winter? Bring it on!

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON TRAVELLING

Now, as it's the eve of my departure, I'd like to witter on for a little while about travelling. Although I've been to a reasonable number of places, mostly in Europe I admit, I've never actually done much proper travelling. I mean, I go to places - to visit them, or like now, to live and work - but I don't *travel*. That is, I've never done a Palin - a big, exploratory, adventurous journey. Me, I just hop on a plane, and hop off a few hours later. It takes less time to get to Moscow than it does to drive up to York. It doesn't seem right somehow!

But whenever I do go away, I always get the fear just beforehand. Right now, for example, as I'm writing this, I feel that going back to Russia is the stupidest thing I've ever done, and that I would be much better off applying for that 'bookseller's' job I saw advertised in Hammicks. I mean, it's cold and everything's disorganised (Russia, not Hammicks). I've even got the fear about teaching right now. What if this, and what if that... running through worst-case scenarios all the time. It's terrible. I've certainly got the fear about my Russian ability. And my accommodation... just everything. What if everyone dies when I'm away! What if the cat gets a cold! Actually, it's pretty stupid, and I should know better.

So I'm trying to push all that to the back of my mind. In 24 hours, I'll be so pumped I'll have forgotten all about the fear; in 48, with any luck, I'll have regained my equilibrium.

I've decided that going to live in other countries is a really bad thing. Once you've done it once, for the rest of your life and wherever you call home you will have friends in a different country. You will always want to live in two different places, and never will be able to. It's very disorientating. I suppose you could say the same thing just about moving from place to place within the same country, but somehow it's different.

For me, the worst thing about going away (the travelling part) is when you go through the check-in bit at the airport. Suddenly it's so definite, so final. It's like a whole country, a continent even, has dropped down between you and the people who have come to see you off. Even though there's still only metres between you.

And airports! I think everyone, or maybe just every Christian with an imagination, has their own conception of what Hell is like. Mine is a giant airport that you can never ever leave. And nothing ever happens. You just wait, and wait, and tanoys go off around you, and people come and go, but you are stuck there forever. On your own - and you have to watch your bags all the time. And it's a little too hot or a little too cold; just a little.

I tried to write a poem about that once, but it sort of mutated into a poem about a supermarket. I guess there are a lot of similarities between the two places!

Airports are hell for me;
Supermarkets are my purgatory.

I think I might have to work on the metre there! And sorry about being so depressing, I'm just trying to outwrite the fear. Actually, I should go and pretend to sleep.

The next time I write something in this weblog, I'll be back in Russia! How's that for a thought?!