Reaching that Volgograd station - after 42 hours of travelling

I relearned a hard lesson yesterday. Do not attempt to write a blog posting directly into Blogger. It doesn't autosave, or it didn't yesterday, so when I left the page to answer a message I lost the whole lot. So today I'm sitting on my bed waiting for the rest of the household to wake up so that we can go to Starbucks for breakfast, and entering this posting into Evernote. I'm not sure how much I'll get done, and I'm so far behind already! So this is a somewhat abbreviated version of what I wrote yesterday.

It's a long journey from Moscow to Volgograd by train. It's a long journey punctuated by several stops. The first one of note was at Узуново,  Uzunovo, and lasted for approximately forty-five minutes.  Although I didn't realise it at the time this stop provided passengers an opportunity to get off the train to stretch their legs, have a smoke or replenish their stocks of food and drink for the rest of the journey. I didn't realise it because it was quite dark and I couldn't see the small wooden shed from which one could buy supplies.

Plenty of beer and vodka for the journey - you missed your opportunity then.

No. Alcohol is not allowed to be consumed on Russian trains. When I took the miniature bottle of vodka, saved from the flight to Moscow,  out of my pocket Iraida told me in no uncertain terms to put it away. I was surprised because a whole box of wine had been consumed by the Brunettes on the train from St.Petersburg to Moscow last year.

Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Say no more!

Once we were under way again Iraida took  charge of preparing the bunks /berths for sleeping. On the vacant upper berths were packets of freshly laundered bed linen and towels as well as rolled up mattresses, blankets and a pillow. Moving me from my side to hers Iraida then proceeded to unroll my mattress and then fitted one of the sheets around it She then spread out the top sheet and popped the pillow into its case. There are advantages in being old and travelling with a young friend!

There are also disadvantages about being 184 cm tall and travelling 3rd class. The first is that there is just, I repeat just enough space to sit upright on the lower berth. There is just not enough space to fit the same 184 cm long person lying straight on the berth, so that feet protrude into the passageway. This means that apart from a few seconds for stretching out I hand to assume a semi-foetal position for the rest of the time. It also means that any necessary journeys to the end of the carriage need to be undertaken very carefully, so as not to walk into someone's feet. The lower bunks aren't too bad but those in the upper bunks have their feet protruding at just about head height.

Interesting.

Indeed.

We had one more major stop when a small group of young soldiers in their fatigues boarded the train. Two of them had been allotted the two bunks above us. They stowed away their rucksacks,  having first changed from their boots into regulation Croc style green sandals with the issue number neatly  painted on in white.  They then disappeared for a while, probably to eat and drink tea with their colleagues.

Drink tea. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more!

No that's what they would be drinking. This wasn't the 17.35 from Edinburgh to London.

It seemed like the evening and night were lasting for ever, but finally it was time to really try to sleep. It should have been easy seeing that it was now almost two days since I had snatched a few hours before setting off from home. It wasn't. It was too hot. Eventually exhaustion took over and I managed about 3 or 4 hours off and on. As we had left Moscow and at various parts of the journey there was snow about. When we awoke on Thursday morning and peered outside at the passing landscape there was no snow at all.

Looks like those snow boots were a really sound investment then.

Mmm.

Once awake we breakfasted on bread with ham and cheese, followed by the remains of what we had the night before. Tea tastes different out of the stakhan. There might have been some chocolate and a couple of mini Kit Kate too.

Having eaten we had to unmake our beds and stow away the mattresses and pillows. All of the bed linen had to be returned to the carriage attendant to be checked and then sent off to be laundered. Then it was time to sit and wait.

We were due to reach Volgograd station at 08.25, so we fully expected to be there at exactly that moment. As we got closer I realised how big a city it is.  I asked Iraida if she knew if we would see Mamaev Kurgan and the huge statue of Mother Russia on the way in to the station. Before she had the chance to answer there it was in the distance, on the left of the train. It is an amazing sight. As we swung round into the city we realised that the train would actually pass quite close and that we would see Мать Родная from our side of the train. Photographs were taken.

It wasn't long afterwards that the train drew to a halt in Volgograd station. I had managed to change my T-shirt, consigning a perspiration and salt-marked Beth Hart to my hand luggage.

Was there need for such a graphic description. If I was about to have a meal I would feel quite queasy.

Well I'm about to be served a meal on the return flight from Moscow Domodyedovo to London Heathrow  and it's not putting me off at all. I have washed my feet in public and slept among 50 strangers , I  have no fears and very few inhibitions.

So, back to Volgograd. The exit through the station  building was closed so we made our way through a busy platform to an alternative way out. There were several groups of young men in a variety of military uniforms, certainly the army and navy was represented. It was quite moving really as they were clearly saying their goodbyes to families and girl friends. Hopefully they were just off for some training, or to start their national service, but thé image remind me of similar scenes captured in images over the years.

The station building itself is still being repaired and restored after it was badly damaged by a suicide bomber back in December 2013, a terrorist attack resulting in considerable loss of life but which was scarcely reported in British media.

I had taken the precaution of reserving the hotel shuttle taxi to pick us up and take us to the Hampton by  Hilton Hotel on Profsoyuznaya Street. It cost the very reasonable price of 325r, about £3.50 and was worth every penny. A comfortable ride in a leather seated 8 seater vehicle. It's only a short journey, but not having to ring for the right taxi and wait for it to arrive was a real bonus.

We were in Volgograd! I had left home at 13.45 on Tuesday 1st December  and arrived in Volgograd at 08.30  on Thursday, 3rd December. That's pretty close to that 42 hours!

What about the time difference? Doesn't that make it shorter?

There are times when I wish you just weren't there. My song said 42 hours, 42 hours to reach my destination, and you're going to quibble about time difference. I've learned some Russian swear words this week, so be careful, very careful.

The journey to Volgograd - part 1

Hands up all of those who have travelled third class on the train between Moscow and Volgograd. Right, all of those with their hands up can probably skip this posting.

Foreign visitors to Russia are advised to travel long journeys by train in first or second class compartments. A bit like Chris Tarrant did in a recent TV series, before rather patronisingly showing the third class carriage and describing it in the typical Tarrant disparaging and sarcastic fashion.

When I was planning this trip I did mention this advice, but this is the means of travelling that most of my young Russian friends employ, simply because of cost.
Why should it be inadvisable? Possibly because there are no internal doors separating sleeping areas. There are about 60 berths in each carriage. They are arranged on two levels in 'bays' with 4 berths across the carriage and two parallel with the carriage. The passageway runs between the 4 and the 2 berthsThere is no privacy unless you drape a sheet across the end of the bay.
It is this lack of privacy which my friends would argue makes it safer to travel this way. They believe you might be in more danger behind a closed door.

So, we had reserved lower berths 17 and 19. For the time being the berths above us were not taken,  the two at right-angles to ours were occupied by a middle aged couple who had already settled in.
We had to stow our bags under our seats/berths and had just about done this when the train began to glide  slowly along Platform 1 and out of the station. It was warm in the carriage.

Warm? Is that what you'd call it?

Well, shortly after the doors were closed and the cold air was shut out, it became more than warm. It became insufferably hot.

And were you dressed appropriately for this temperature?

What do you think? I had managed to divest myself of my Rohan parka, guaranteed wind and waterproof,  and my sheepskin hat. What could I take off next? Well there was a lightweight waistcoat, which doubles as an extra load-carrying device, with its myriad of pockets.  There was a fleece - lined shirt which doubles as a jacket. There was a Rohan winter shirt, smart but functional. Finally there was the Beth Hart VIP T-shirt which was at that precise moment doubling as a soaking wet piece of cloth designed to make the wearer as uncomfortable as possible. I gradually began peeling off the layers but stopped at the shirt. I didn't want to embarrassing myself or anyone else by sitting there dripping on to the seat. But there was  still a problem  - my feet.

Ah yes, the feet which had been encased in lined  snow-boots for the best part of 24 hours. Actually, more than the best part of 24 hours. Yes that would be a problem.

Exactly. They had actually been in snow for about 90 seconds. I could see that everyone else had removed their outdoor footwear and were wearing a  variety of slippers. mules and even flip - flops.  I decided to take the plunge, removing my boots AND socks, and using facial cleansing wipes proceeded to wash my feet in front of the whole world.

The whole world?

The whole world as it existed at that moment in time, a  world in a carriage, with its inhabitants in various states of undress and unconsciousness. I then extracted from my cabin case a pair of lightweight non-slip things you can wear for water-sports like canoeing. An Aldi centre aisle purchase. I knew they would be useful someday.

They would certainly have been waiting a long time if they were waiting to be on your feet in a canoe!

Once almost suitably dressed it was clear from the goings on around us that it was time to eat. Bags were being opened containers placed on tables, plastic bags being rustled in and seals broken on jwars containing a variety of edibles. Folk were passing up and down the carriage, those going one way carrying empty mugs and glasses enclosed in metal holders. The others carrying similar containers but this time full of near boiling water. The traditional charcoal fuelled samovar has been replaced by a boiler with tap, but the tradition remains the same.

It makes sense not to carry two mugs of near-boiling water, so the foot traffic was quite intense. This provided an opportunity to people watch too. Our feast was unpacked and spread on the table. There was black bread, cheese, ham and sliced sausage with a garnish of dill and parsley. Iraida had done the double journey and I drank a cup of black tea from a glass in a metal holder adorned with the double - headed eagle of imperial Russia.

It was late afternoon and dusk was falling fast. We saw suburbs, villages and forests of silver birch trees before the darkness fell and all we could see was ourselves in the reflections on the window. A glance at my mobile phone showed me that it was 17.30h. Only another 15 hours to go.

To be continued.....

Red Square and GUM and a rushed return to Paveletski. Would we be there in time for the train?

The last time I was in Moscow I had mislaid something and didn't see much of the city. The first time I was in Moscow I had lost something and probably saw more of the city than the rest of my fellow students. This time I hadn't lost or mislaid anything ..

As far as you know.

... and was determined to revisit Красная Площадь, Krasnaya Ploschad, Red Square.

Are you going to give three versions of every place name?

No.  It was only two stops on the Metro and we soon emerged from the subterranean palace which is the **** station, gazed at the Bolshoi Theatre and walked past a Winter Market to the square dominated by the statue of Marshal Zhukov. Behind his statue is the entrance to Krasnaya Ploschad, past the brass star set into the ground which marks the centre of the city. Iraida wanted to take a photo of me standing on this spot, but I was far too polite to push in as did most others waiting to do the same thing. Eventually I made it and had my photo taken for the first of many times in the next few days. Then we walked through the beautifully decorated archway into the street which leads up to the square itself. On the right  was the Museum of Russian History, and outside of one of the entrances were two or three characters from that history, dressed in splendid costumes. The idea is that you can go and stand beside them and take their photographs or have a photograph taken with them.

Haven't they heard of an  30x optical zoom lens?

It seems not. Having taken the photos like the cheap-skate I am we moved further up towards Red Square itself. There was something wrong. The Square wasn't the vast empty space that I expected and remembered. But this is December and New Year isn't too far away. A Winter Fair, complete with a temporary outdoor skating rink, carousels and a village of stalls selling everything for the New Year Celebrations took up most of the square on the side next to ГУМ, the massive shop which used to be the Gosudarstveniye Universiye Magazin - its much easier to say ГУМ  (pronounced 'Goom').  At the right of the square was the Kremlin, the Spasskaya Bashniya clock tower and the Mausoleum of Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. Unchanged. And at the far end of the square was the iconic cathedral of St. Basil - Василиевскии Собор - with its amazing cupolas.
This is tourist Russia but with good reason. Visually stunning,  historically significant  and thus somewhat awe-inspiring.

There were photos to be taken. Lots of photos. (And these will be added when Internet access allows it )  For the first time I walked around the back of Vasilievski Sobor - the views were just as stunning from every angle.

Having walked through the Winter Village, admiring the items for sale we then entered ГУМ itself. In Soviet days this was the flagship store. Now it is an amazing collection of very high end shops representing the highest quality and prices to be found around the world. At this time of year the 'store' is beautifully decorated with this year's theme being based on retro style greetings cards and parcels. Apart from a selection of shops selling Russian delicacies, confectionery, pâtisserie etc, one could have been in Paris, London or New York with all of the top names on show. Nevertheless it was spectacular. Finding our way out of the maze of galleries and malls took longer than expected, and by the time we entered the Zhukov Metro Station we had less than thirty minutes to get back to Paveletski, collect our luggage and then get to the platform to board the train to Volgograd, which was due to leave at 13.42.

I gave bad memories of missing one train from Paveletski last year, the express out to Domodyedovo Airport. As we waited in the overheated corridor outside the superheated left - luggage department it seemed that the heat was affecting the young guy on duty there. He appeared to be in something of a daze as he eventually searched for our baggage. This was going to be a close thing. I don't like close things. The baggage retrieved, we then began a sprint along corridors, up escalators and stairs.

Sprint? Did you say sprint?

Well it was as near as an overdressed, overheated and over laden seventy year old could get to a sprint I assure you!

Not to mention overweight.

I didn't  miss that out for any other reason than it didn't fit into the carefully constructed sentence which used the list of three to build the sense of meaning.

As we emerged from the station on to Platform 1, the station announcer was advising passengers for the train to Volgograd to board as quickly as possible. The train stretched out into the distance. There were 14 coaches I think. The highest numbers were at the rear. Our berths were in Coach 5. Each coach took about ten seconds to pass,  13. 12. 11.Would we make it? 10, 9, 8, 7. Do they have cardiac resuscitation equipment on Russian platforms. 6......5.......Where's your passport? Not my ticket? No, your passport. Attendant searches passport for passport. No 5 that's your migration  card  No that's your visa. Ah that's your passport. Check. Right, on you get.

The passageway through the sleeping car in third class isn't very wide. There was probably about a cm on each side as I followed Iraida to berths 17 and 19. I couldn't really walk straight.

"It's alright," explained Iraida, "we've made it with four minutes to spare."
I can't remember saying anything.

The Waiting Game

Having intended to arrive at Paveletski at about 08.44, and having arrived some way earlier than that I had some waiting  to do: first I had to rendezvous with Katya Gavshina, a friend of Daria Panchenko; next I had to wait for Iraida Gordashevskaya,  who would be my travelling  companion for the next 10 days.
All of us, that's Katya, Daria, Iraida and I, owe a lot to music. The three Lucequetaires, namely Daria, Iraida  and I have become really good friends because of our mutual liking for the music of a number of quebecoix singers. Daria and Katya  have become friends because of a shared love of Turkish rock music, specifically the band Redd. Because I was able to help Katya by buying something for the baby of a Turkish friend and sending it to Istanbul  she had agreed to purchase some foodstuffs for the journey to Volgograd. She had agreed to meet me at the station on her way to work, hand over the goodies and wait with me for a little while.

I think you'd better mention that it was hardly "on her way to work". She had to travel in from a south eastern district of Moscow, but that was also where she worked. That meant an awkward journey in and out of the city.

True. I couldn't link to a wifi point, so I sent a text message to Katya, expaining that I had arrived at Paveletski early and that I would meet her beside the exit to the platform between  Mister Kartoshka ( a baked potato snack bar) and Salon Svyazi, ( a mobile telephone accessory kiosk). It wasn't long before I had a reply from Katya explaining that she was running a little bit late because of the Moscow traffic, but that she would find me. And she did.

It's a bit strange but I spend of my time speaking in French whilst in Russia, because it is the language in which the Lucequetaires feel most comfortable after there own. But here was Katya who, apart from learning Turkish, also speaks good English. I certainly wasn't going to attempt any Turkish, so it was English that we talked about the food that she had brought for us,  and the thank you gifts of Turkish delight from Istanbul.

We had by this time moved into an adjacent cafe,  "Kofe Kulinaraya", which apart from coffee also sold a variety of foodstuffs, sweet and savoury. Katya ordered me a coffee and a cake. I was able to specify that I wanted my coffee  black without sugar.

What amazing linguistic skills you possess!

Shut up!

Before Katya left for work she managed to telephone Iraida, who should have landed at Sheremetyevo at 08.20. We spoke and it was decided that I would wait for her in Kofe Kulinaraya. So with apologies for leaving me on my own, Katya left. Hopefully we will meet up with her in Moscow next week.

I felt a bit guilty about sitting there with an empty table in front of me, so I ordered another black coffee.

All by yourself?

Yes! All I needed to ask for was ещё одно кофе, пожалуйста, and the dyevushka behind the counter remembered that I wanted it без молоком и без сахаром.

Good show!

I had fished my second coffee and having spent time people watching was building myself up to asking for an apple juice.

Yes, four coffees in one morning would have been slightly excessive I feel. Do you think you would have managed to ask for the apple juice if Iraida hadn't arrived just then?

It's me telling the story, remember. So, just as I was about to order an apple juice Iraida entered the building. Lots of hugs ensued. Having decided that we didn't need anything to eat or drink we decided to spend the two and a half hours at our disposal by visiting Krasnaya Ploschad. I didn't really fancy trailing round with suitcases so we managed to find the left - luggage department down in the lower levels of the station. It was a bit like being in a coalmine - the deeper you went the hotter it became. The left luggage department could have doubled as a sauna without the steam. This did not bode well for our foodstuffs,  which included meat and cheese.

And chocolates...

Aah yes, chocolates. Have I mentioned before that Russians make excellent chocolates?

Probably.

So having left our baggage we left the station.

There's an interesting piece of linguistic usage for our Russian and French readers. The use of the the word "left" in two different senses.

Enough!! As we left the massive Paveletski Railway Station the cold air of Moscow hit us like a welcome ice bath. Perhaps that's a  slight exaggeration - I can't actually conceive that an ice bath would ever be welcome. The air was fresh and cold and very refreshing.

After our too short stay in Volgograd we were returning to Moscow and our apartment was situated near Paveletski station. We had a little wander and think we had identified it's location. But now it was time for the Moscow Metro and the short ride to Red Square.

Arriving at Moscow Domodyedovo

It was four in the morning in early December...oops almost strayed into a Leonard Cohen classic then, but enough of famous blue raincoats and building houses out in the desert and giving a lock of your hair to some woman called Jane.

I thought you just said enough about a Leonard Cohen classic, even if it was performed so beautifully by the wondrous Luce Dufault, then you go on about famous blue raincoats and building houses out in the desert and giving a lock of your hair to some woman called Jane and the raincoat being torn at the shoulder.

Hang on, I certainly did not mention anything about the famous blue raincoat being torn at the shoulder and acting decisively I'm not going to mention anything more about it. It was just that the flight from London Heathrow to Moscow Domodyedovo landed at precisely 4.00 am and it was certainly in early December and the cadence of that statement made me think of the song, The flight was uneventful apart from being punctuated by the serving of snacks and hot and cold beverages and trying to fill in a customs declaration in very subdued lighting. I wouldn't care but nobody asked for it when I eventually went through the customs .
Before collecting my suitcase and going through customs I had to submit my passport and visa for inspection. I took special care of the small sheet of paper the young lady handed me with my passport, yes, my migration card.

You're not going to include the words to "Immigration Card Blues" now are you, just in case some poor soul out there hasn't heard it?

I hadn't thought about that. Quite a good idea, but no, not at this juncture. I did have to open my messenger bag so that the customs officer could check one or two items, but was waved through without further ado.

I was planning to stay in Domodyedovo Airport until about 8.00 and intended to catch the Aerexpress into Paveletski station. The airport was very warm - very, very warm. I was wearing enough layers to ensure survival in below zero temperatures but although it was a couple of degrees below freezing outside, it must have been about 30°C in the terminal. I first found a туалете and then looked for somewhere to relax for three hours.

Airports are strange places at 4.00 a.m. Eerily quiet with the majority of people there trying to sleep on seats not designed for sleep. Most seemed to be groups of young men and whether they were there to catch a flight or take advantage of the warmth it was not the most comfortable situation. Discretion being the better part of valour I moved to a coffee shop and enjoyed a 'strong cappucino' with a tastefully designed piece of art-work on the surface of the coffee. It was very pleasant indeed, but did nothing to reduce my body temperature.  I sat there for about 30 minutes and the decided to find the Аэроэкспресс terminal. Moving towards the exit there was a distinct reduction in the temperature, so I found a seat and attempted to acclimatise myself before leaving the terminal building. To say that I was perspiring heavily would have been an understatement and the cold started to react with my Beth Hart V.I.P T shirt, which was basically wringing wet.

I finally decided to catch an earlier train than intended so wheeled my laden luggage trolley out to the platform which had a dusting of snow covering the exposed parts. The train arrived and I boarded. It wasn't long before it set off and about 40 minutes later I alighted and went into the Paveletski Station building which was very busy. I was swiftly and successively approached by taxi drivers offering transport at knock down prices. One is advised not to accept, and I didn't need a taxi anyway, so practised my gruff est and hard man  "Нет. Мне не надо такси. " ("No. I don't need a taxi"), whilst scowling.

A little bit of excitement - a frisson of danger!

Approaching London Heathrow  landing in about ten minutes. A feeling of warmth is spreading over and through me. I'm not sure if it's the several layers of clothing I'm wearing in preparation for a cold morning on Moscow or the complimentary gin and tonic  I've just downed.

Probably a combination of both I would have thought.

You're probably right, again.

Oo! A bit of excitement on our approach! Just coming into land, about 100ft up when we suddenly accelerated and climbed rather rapidly banking to the right. Back up into the holding pattern for another ten minutes. Our skipper announced that the aircraft landing in front of us had taken rather longer to move off the runway than they appreciated, so took the decision to go around again. A bit like circuits and bumps without the bumps  .... so far. Now coming back in for another try.
Robin Sanderson, live from flight BA  approaching London Heathrow for the second time!

Do you know that warm feeling you were talking about earlier? Did it happen again during the aborted landing?

Actually, no. There was a slight puzzlement and a sharing of raised eyebrows with fellow passengers, but it was so well done it wasn't really too worrying.
Anyway, back on Terra Firma and sitting in Wetherspoons wondering what to have to eat. The problem is that I should be fed on the flight to Moscow, but I don't know whether it will be a packet of crisps or a three course meal ( with complimentary wine of course). So shall I have a burger or a panini?

Have you seen the prices? This is Heathrow, not The Wouldhave in South Shields?

Good grief!!!! The Classic Burger is £9.50 and a pulled pork sandwich is £9.20. I put my trust in British Airways,  and make do with a liquid starter. More later.

Do you mean another liquid starter or more ramblings?

If I have more liquid I will be definitely rambling.

The blue awaits above the grey

The blue awaits above the grey, just as I wait in the departure lounge at  Newcastle International Airport. The torrential rain seems to have stopped, but it's still quite breezy, to say the least. It's quite a short flight down to London Heathrow - scheduled take-off is 16.30 and arrival at Terminal 5 is at 17.50.
Thanks to my friend Carl I had a trouble free trip up to the airport after a more hectic morning packing, locking cases and then unlocking, opening, packing some more things, locking cases and then unlocking, opening, packing,locking cases and then unlocking, opening, packing. As I sit here I'm still wondering which vital item I have left behind.

But enough of this! The journey has begun. The journey began 24 hours ago for one of my wonderful young Russian friends. She left Krasnoyarsk in Siberia at 13.00 our time, with the first stage in her journey to Moscow an eleven hour bus ride to Tomsk. There she will meet up with friends before heading to Tomsk airport at some time in the very near future. Her flight ( 5 1/2 hours in duration) will arrive in Moscow Sheremetyevo  tomorrow morning, about four hours after my flight arrives at Domodyedovo. It's amazing what people will do for music!

Next stop London Heathrow.....

And so begins another adventure: Moscow and Volgograd here I come!

Why is it when you really need to have a really good sleep, in order to restore mind and body before a long journey, that your mind and body won't let you? This 1st December 2015 started for me at about 02.30 when a large black labradoodle decided that he had had enough of my company and crawled off the bottom of my bed and stood panting at the bedroom door. Having released him from his prison and allowed him to wander off to who knows where in the house, I dropped off into a fitful slumber. It was very fitful and didn't last long. So from 05.00 I was awake, mind racing over what needed to be done before 14.00h and my departure for Newcastle airport. That task completed it was onto a series of mental "what ifs". Now the phrase "what if" has strangely powerful, creative and positive connotations, which has moved mankind on through its history - just think about the Honda advert - but can also be the prerogative of the procrastinator and pessimist. Such mental energy was exerted for three hours that it was in a state of cranial exhaustion that I slid over the edge of the bed and began the normal morning routine. The thought of a further two nights with little prospect of sleep would have filled any normal person with dread.

So what are you then, if you're not normal?

Ah you're back again, the anonymous commentator. Well, my younger daughter Julia thinks I'm bonkers, but I like to think of myself as an adventurer, travelling alone to distant lands, and I laugh in the face of three days of sleep deprivation, for the moment.

So where are you off to this time, pale imitation of Michael Palin without a camera crew and production team?

'Tis the truth you speak - oh that I had a camera crew, production team, scriptwriter and large commission to bring my travels to a wider audience than the nine people who normally read my blog. But I digress, and in answer to your query, I'm 'off' to Russia: to Moscow, Volgograd and then back to Moscow again.

How long will it take to get to Volgograd?

I'm glad you asked that question. It's almost as if you had been prompted to ask it in some strange split personality sort of way. It's going to take 42 hours. If I had my lapsteel with me  I would sing a song about it, this one:

It's gonna take 42 hours
'Til I get to my destination.
42 hours to reach that Volgograd station.

I got to get to Newcastle
And fly to London Heathrow
Then I got to fly on in the night, to Domodyedovo.

It's gonna take 42 hours
To get to my destination
42 hours to reach that Volgograd station

It'll be early in the morning when I land at Domodyedovo
Yes, about ten past four in the morning, then it's on to central Moscow.

It's gonna take 42 hours
To get to my destination.
42 hours to reach that Volgograd station.

At about two that afternoon I'm going to catch me a train
At the Paveletski station, for a 20 hour journey that's gonna really test my patience.

It's gonna take 42 hours
To get to my destination.
42 hours to reach that Volgograd station.

Now some people say don't you do it!
What about the dangers?
You're gonna be sleeping in an open carriage
With lots of total strangers.

It's gonna take 42 hours
To get to my destination.
42 hours to reach that Volgograd station

But I'll have a real friend with me,
All the way to the Volgograd station.
I'll make her tea at the samovar
And she'll be doing all translation.

It's gonna take 42 hours
But I've got my invitation
And when we get down there to Volgograd.
We're going to start the celebration.

I only asked.......