Exeter to Plymouth

Leaving Exeter for the relatively short journey to Plymouth, we turned inland so that we could cross Dartmoor. This was a very pleasant drive on quite a sunny day. There were a lot of people in the National Park, some there to go walking, others like us who were just driving and sightseeing. A popular attraction was the little Dartmoor ponies who seemed quite accustomed to human presence.
We carried on through the moor past Princetown, joining up with the A386 which took us right into Plymouth. Garth was to leave us at Plymouth and travel back to London by train so we made a point of finding the railway station as soon as we reached the city centre so that we would know where to come back to mid-afternoon. Like many English towns which have gown over many years with no coherent planning until quite recently, Plymouth was confusing to find our way around. While trying to find our way to The Barbican where the information centre is located, we came across a couple of Police Constables on the beat and they were kind enough to direct us. Of course, being a fine Sunday in Autumn, the next problem was to find a carpark but we managed to locate one down by the wharf below the Hoe. From there it was a short walk to the Barbican information centre where we were able to get information about hotels etc. After lunch we went to a Holiday Inn just nearby and they had a room available (and parking and elevators!). I did the initial part of the check in thinking that would save time after dropping Garth back at the railway station.

Now that we knew our way around Plymouth, or at least the parts that mattered, we were able to take Garth back to the railway station without getting lost at all, although the Sunday afternoon traffic was a bit of a pain. Arriving back at the hotel, the receptionist couldn't find our check in information even though it was only 45 minutes since we had been there! Eventually we got it sorted out.

On Monday morning, rather than eat an overpriced but mostly unneeded breakfast in the hotel, we made our way back down to the Barbican and had breakfast in a little cafe there. After breakfast we went back to the info centre to see if they would be able to book us some self-catering accomodation but while they have information available on such, apparently they don't do bookings. Anyway we found a coffee shop and I was able to call and make a booking myself. We had located, in one of the tourism guides we picked up along the way, some self-catering cottages (Crylla Valley Cottages) at Saltash just across the Tamar River not far west of Plymouth. Normally such cottages are let on a Saturday in-out basis but, being ouside the high season, they were happy to let us have one for three nights. The directions they gave us for finding the place were spot on and it turned out to be one of the best decisions we made during the holiday. The cottages are fairly new and the one that we had, had lounge, kitchen, dining downstairs and fully kitted out with washing machine/drier. Upstairs was the large double bedroom and bathroom facilities. Heating was by electric storage heaters which were quite adequate even when it turned quite chilly on our second night there.

Being self-catering of course we had to stock up on some food items but there is a Waitrose Supermarket near Saltash which carried everything that we needed so we were able to set up a nice little base for our Cornish explorations.

Salisbury to Exeter

The room we stayed in at the Grasmere Court Hotel must have been the honeymoon suite because the bedsprings were incredibly noisy.
However, the view from the window, looking back over the town and the cathedral was good. Whether it made up for having to lug our heavy suitacases up three flights of stairs is debatable.

Our destination on this, Saturday 28th October was Exeter we we reached via Stonehenge, Dorchester, and a few assorted places in between. Getting to Stonehenge from Salisbury was straightforward, taking us about half an hour to complete the journey. We arrived before official opening time but this was no problem as adequate views of 'the Henge' can be seen from the roadside. Even if admitted to the area on payment of a fee, you aren't allowed to get close to the monoliths so its seems rather pointless going in at all. I have to say that the whole experience was rather unfulfilling, but at least we could 'tick the box'.

Driving away from Stonehenge we thought that we were taking the A303 which would take us to intersect with the A350 where we could head south to Dorchester. Somehow the road turned into the A344 taking us north to Devizes. I realised this when I saw the name/distance markers had unfamiliar names -not ones which I had gleaned from our proposed route. However, after a quick check of the map we realised the error and saw that we could correct it by cutting west on the B390 which would take us onto the A36 and thence to the A350. Again, we weren't in a hurry so it gave us the chance to traverse some countryside we wouldn't otherwise have seen. I understand that during WWII all of the road signage was removed so that any invading forces or spies dropped to reconnoitre would have difficulty finding their way around. I have to say that we would have been totally lost without the generally good signage available now.

Salisury plain has lots of military establishments and on our (unexpected) way to Warminster we passed the occasional 'tank crossing' sign. We were continually surprised by distances being less than we expected. I guess we get so used to 'the wide open spaces' in Australia that the relatively short distances in England take us by surprise.

Reaching Dorchester at around midday we experienced the usual English town problem of finding a car park on 'shopping day'. By queueing patiently we were able to get into a carpark near the town centre and, once in, had no problem finding a park. A short walk away was the main town shopping centre and various acknowledgments and monuments to Thomas Hardy. Hardy's fictional town Casterbridge was based on Dorchester and the townsfolk haven't been slow to cash in on the fictional historical link.
It's interesting to see how the fictional history becomes so enmeshed with the reality of the place that it takes on a life of its own. After making a few purchases at Marks and Spencers we had lunch in another local department store's cafe which was also quite busy. This photo shows a plaque outside what was supposed to have been the Mayor of Casterbridge's house.

Extracting ourselves from the carpark after lunch was almost as painful as getting in but eventually we were clear and on our way to Weymouth. There we had a bit of a stroll around before heading west on the coastal 'B' road which was bound to be much more interesting and less stressful than the busy main road. Unfortunately we had to join up with the A road at Bridport but shortly after were able to divert to the coast again on the Lyme Regis, Seaton, etc road going also through Ottery St Mary.

We seemed unable to break our pattern of arriving at our destination at the busiest time of the day and so we got to Exeter late on the Saturday afternoon. Leaving Pat in the car as she had a headache Garth and I tracked down the information centre and managed to find a hotel for the night. As we had come to expect, our room was on the 3rd floor, there was no elevator and no porter. The lady in charge seemed reminiscent of Basil Fawlty but that could have just been because we were pretty tired at the end of the day. The ultimate pain was that we had to park the car in a residential area two streets away because the hotel had no parking at all!
We enjoyed traditional fish and chips from a traditional chippy just down the road. Chatting with them while we waited we were pleased to discover that they would not do battered Mars Bars! (Mostly, it seemed, because it would destroy their process flow)

Time Warp

Entering Long Whatton from Kegworth Lane that Friday morning was like stepping back 30 years. Little seemed to have changed in the centre of the village apart from a few more houses going up between the garage was and Mill Lane where we used to live. We had a quick drive through and noticed a lot of additional housing at the Loughborough end of the village. After a drive down Mill Lane we parked at the end outside what used to be Jane and Mike's thatched cottage (still thatched) and had a stroll for a short way down. 'Our' house (number 3) seemed pretty unchanged as did the adjoing house.

Pat outside "Mike and Jane's" with 'our'
house and No 5 in the background

In the photo above that's the grey Vauxhall Zafira we were driving.

While remeniscing about old times we wondered if, perchance, our old neighbours still lived there. While knocking on the door I saw a man sitting there who was undoubtedly the same Aubrey. On untroducing myself as he opened the door he pointed to Garth standing behind me - "You're the one who used to try to strangle your sister out the back" which caused much laughter.

Aubrey and Jackie

We sat and had a cup of tea with Jackie and Aubrey while catching up on old times - a lot happens in 30+ years. It was good to see them both in very good health and still enjoying life.

Inevitably we had to leave so headed south travelling mostly on the Fosse Way which traverses modern roads with mostly 'A' names and pretty much follows the original Roman road. Navigating Coverntry's Ring Road was exciting with a more-than-usually lavish serving of roundabouts. By intently following the road markers ('Axxx' etc) we made it through without any more hassle than being in the wrong lane at one rab and having to quickly navigate left before being swamped by another influx of cars. Oh, and of course, Coventry's ring-road rabs are a testimony to their ineffectiveness at handling high traffic volumes - they are all fitted with traffic lights as well.

We passed through some lovely scenery typical of the English countryside at its best. Following the Fosse Way put us onto roads that were generally smaller than the busy through roads but the drive was all the more pleasant because of it. We lunched at a pub in Stow in the Wold which was just a short detour off our route. Afterwards we came to Bourton on Water which is one of the quintessentially picturesque Cotswold villages which grace calendars and to which tourists flock. Garth was driving so took us for a spin through the village. Remember it was Friday but the village was full of car and bus loads of tourists. It was certainly very picturesque but made us realise that living in such a pretty place is probably not all that its cracked up to be with hoardes of tourists all year round.

We had decided to make Salisbury our overnight stop so eventually arrived in the town right in the evening rush period. We had located a potential hotel to stay at so, while we were crawling through the town traffic I gave them a call. After checking that rooms were available I asked them to give me directions from where we were and then, after clearing through the traffic jams we arrived at Grasmere Court hotel not too much the worse for wear. Of course it was another typical English country hotel with no elevators and no porter so we had to lug our heavy bags up three flights to our rooms. The bright spot of it was that we had practically the whole of the top floor - two bedrooms and a sitting room (there was a third, unoccupied, bedroom) with wonderful views back over the town and the famous cathedral. This was also to be the only hotel at which I was successful in using a pre-paid voucher.

Pat wasn't particularly hungry so Garth and I walked back to a place we had spotted which seemed to a be a member of some family fast-food chain but their meals were OK. The place was pretty full and decked out in Halloween themes - including the waiting staff. The English seem to have picked up on the American trends in celebrating Halloween and while it is a bit of fun for the young kids, tends to be taken to excess by older 'kids' who can get quite nasty.

Into the Unknown

Following Frank's directions got us out of London without too much hassle although we did end up on the M1 at one stage. We could have taken the M1 all the way up to Nottingham - just a two-hour blast but boring, boring, boring! Eventually we were on our chosen route up the A11 and coming to grips with Brit road builders favourite toy - the roundabout. Unable to decide which road deserves priority they opt for an egalitarian solution that slows everyone down. And just when you being self-congratulatory about clearing one busy rab (roundabout) there is another to test your resolve and determination. Ho hum.

On one stretch of road we were following a small car with four passengers at quite a resonable speed - around 60mph - when a rab approached (I honestly got the feeling that they approached us rather than vice versa). Well short of the rab the car in front executed what was close to an emergency braking manouvre, so rapid was the deceleration. Fortunately I was quick enough to avoid rear-ending it. At the next rab after that one, following this little car into the rab I was looking intently to the right and inadvertently let our car roll a few inches. I had thought that they had carried through but no - they'd stopped again unexpectedly with the result that they got a nudge in the tail. They were about to jump out and check it out right there but I waved them to pull off to the left exit and we followed them down to sus out any damage. Well there wasn't any damage to either vehicle, not so much as a mark in the dust so we shook hands, they thanked me for stopping and we carried on our way. Oh me.

We lunched at a Little Chef where we were amused when Pat wanted just Egg on Toast (strictly speaking a breakfast-only dish and served only until 11am) and when the bill cam it was itemised to 1 slice of toast and 1 egg.

Passing through Ely during the lunch period we missed a turn and ended up going through the very busy main street. Nothing to do but keep going until we got back on the right track but just the first of our many experiences of country towns with narrow streets and too much traffic.

Crossing the Wash we had to wait at one of the canals as the bridge was up. The countryside there is quite reminiscent of Holland being very flat with canals and windmills. Actually they aren't far apart geographically anyway. After an otherwise uneventful drive we ended up in Nottingham late in the afternoon. Fortunately my memory put us on the right road to Long Eaton but the traffic was very heavy and slow - much worse than when I used to drive here in the early 1970s. Going past Nottingham Uni brought back a lot of old memories.

When we got to Long Eaton we had a bit of trouble locating the hotel but they gave us directions and we eventually found the place. A lot of development had gone on there too. Most of the south end of the town which had just been open country is now built up with residential development. The Ramada Inn was much as we expected but without elevators. Fortunately only two stories so not too many flights to carry the bags.

Next morning (Friday) we set off to our old village - Long Whatton. I lost my bearings a bit and we saw quite a bit of countryside that we didn't expect to see ending up close to Derby before backtracking and eventually finding Kegworth - a village close to where we wanted to be. I remembered Kegworth well - especially the time it was raining on my motorcycle ride home from the Uni and I couldn't get the engine restarted after stopping in Long Eaton. I ended up pushing the bike about 7 miles including up the hill in the back of Kegworth on the lane towards Long Whatton. We drove down that lane and passed the farm where the farmer had taken pity on me as he saw me pushing the bike. He let me put the bike in his barn and gave me a ride home.

Long Whatton didn't appear to be much different as we entered from the North West. The countryside still looked very much the same as we remembered and again we were flooded with memories. More in the next post.

England my England

Our holiday plan for England was to spend most of the time visiting a part of the country we had not been to before - the West Country of Devon and Cornwall. However, during their journey to meet me in London, and while there in the day or so before I arrived, Pat and Garth had discovered a yearning to revisit the village that we lived in the early 1970's and I must admit that I was not averse to seeing what had happened in the place in the intervening 30+ years.

We settled in Long Whatton, Leicestershire in early 1971 on arrival from New Zealand on a 'working holiday' along with the three kids aged 5 and 6. After a few weeks on the unemployment register trying to find a job, I landed a position at Nottingham University as a Research Assistant in the Economics Department. I was attached to an economic forecasting project and my job was to take the formulae given me by the academic members of the project and turn them into Algol programs and then run the collected datasets through them so that they could analyse the results. After doing that for about six months I landed a more permanent and better paid position in the Cripps Computer Centre which is where I was until leaving the Uni in February 1974.

Living in the small village through those few years was a good time of our lives. We didn't have much money but we had a great environment to live and work in and the kids were able to attend the local village school which was about 30 metres from our front door. Anyway, a chance to revisit old memories was all the urging that any of us needed to make a detour via Nottingham on our way to the West Country.

On the Thursday morning we checked out of the Corus Hotel and left Pat guarding the luggage in the foyer while Garth and I walked along Bayswater to Marble Arch to pick up the rental car. Since Garth was going to be with us for a few days we had extra luggage to cart around so we got a larger vehicle than I had booked - a Vauxhall (Opel/Holden) Zafira with 19l diesel engine and 6-speed manual mixer. The old(er) chap who got the car ready for us, gave us lots of advice about how to get back to the hotel, and more importantly the way to head north east out of London on our meandering way to Nottingham. We had decided to head up the A11 via Cambridge and Ely to the Wash and then cut back over through Grantham to Nottingham and end up at Long Eaton for the night. It turns out that Frank had been evacuated to the Ely/Wash area during the war so new the area well. He'd apparently run away a couple of times before being settled with a family that was a bit kinder to him.

So we left the Alomo Rental depot with me at the helm of a strange vehicle in a strange town. Frank's directions included taking a turn around Marble Arch to get onto Bayswater Road which was quite exciting but after that it was reasonably straightforward to get to the hotel - the only problem then being to find a legit parking space. Garth went in to get Pat and I stayed outside making sure we didn't get a parking ticket which wouldn't have been a good way to start off our adventures.

Eventually we were on the road and generally following Frank's navigational directions to get out of London. Next post I'll pick up on our journey northwards.

St Petersburg Impressions

After being apprehensive about going to Russia, due mainly to media hype about post-Soviet conditions as well as a wondering how much of the authoritarianism is still in place, I was favourably impressed with St Petersburg. It was probably the worst time of year to visit - missing both the warmth of Summer and the softening effects of a white-blanketed Winter, but even in the Autumn murk it is a beautiful city. It sort of had the feel, to me at least, that I imagine 19th-century or early 20th-century Paris would have had. Full of great buildings and bustling with people and traffic but with an air of genteel decay. Or rather of a never-ending effort to keep the buildings in good condition - Nevsky Pr in Autumn is rather dirty, and somewhat polluted by vehicle exhaust fumes, but alive with people and vehicles. It also was a reminder of past greatness - both the royal kind, as well as commercial greatness. For instance the facade of the Singer Building, which stands on the corner of Nevsky Pr and Griboedova Canal, speaks of a time when the city's prospects were high and business was booming, before the decline of the Soviet years.It reminded me somewhat of the facade of the Selfridges department store on London's Oxford St.

Possibly many of the people were better off overall under communism after the revolution than under Tsarist rule, although stories of people queueing for hours to buy staple supplies make this seem unlikely. There is little doubt, however, that Russia's economy has boomed since the breakup of the USSR and the shops are probably as good as you would find in any of the major world cities. Apparently older people have found it harder to adjust to the changes since Communism than the younger generations who, like young people everywhere, relish changes.

The people that we met were friendly and never 'in your face'. Around the churches there are the inevitable souvenir stalls, salesmen of Caviar of dubious provenance, and beggars but thats where you expect to find them. You are not, generally, accosted on the street to take this tour or buy this souvenir. Our hosts were gracious and looked after us very well. It would be interesting to visit St Petersburg again with more time available to really get to know what it is like to actually live there - an experience you can never get as a tourist who is just there for a few days trying to cram as much in as possible.

Yes, I'll go back if I get the chance, long-haul flights and all.

St Petersburg, Russia - Part 10

Wednesday was our last day in St Petersburg, although not a full one. We arranged for Alex to pick us up shortly after 2PM to take us to Pulkovo Airport and arranged a 2PM checkout for the hotel.

This was our last chance to see the Hermitage. We decided, on Veronika's advice about the 'see-worthiness' of the Metro, to take the Metro towards The Hermitage so we walked up Nevsky Pr to the Mayakovskaya Metro station. Having purchased tokens and taken the escalator down to coal-mining depths we were able to view the tiled architecture which Veronika had told us about.


This picture doesn't really do it justice but what it shows is the name of the station in Cyrillic script done in reddish/black tiles on the wall. Just to the left of this, and immeditaly opposite those is a series of doorways (lift elevator doors) which is where you wait to get onto the train. The train pulls up and the doors open and you get on without seeing any sign of the train before the doors open.

Being so deep underground and very enclosed can bring on acute claustrophobia in one so inclined so we decided not to wait for the train but instead to walk to The Hermitage. The unfortunate aspect of that was that it made us a little later getting to The Hermitage and there was the inevitable queue. Hoever, in contrast to Sunday's abortive attempt, the queue was actually moving in increments of about 30 people every ten minutes so we eventually made it inside at about midday. This gave us just over an hour to 'do' The Hermitage before we had to head back to the hotel. Since our main aim was to view the Leonardo da Vinci paintings this was doable.

Inside the building we first made our way up the magnificent staircase. The tread height is only about 100mm which is probably OK for a lady wearing a long gown but would be quite wearying if you were a poor servant having to run around after the royals. Maybe the servant's stairs are a more appropriate height of tread for efficient ascent and descent.

Having no idea where the LDV paintings might be we asked a babushka which way to go and after quite alot of walking through huge reception rooms we eventually came to the paintings. Along the way we took a few illicit photos (if the babushkas see you taking a photo they will shoo you away) including this reception room.

The Da Vinci paintings were, in the end, worth seeing given that we had limited time available.
















The immense size and opulence of The Hermitage are staggering. It would probably take many visits to really do justice to the experience. However, now it was time to leave so we had a very brisk walk to the hotel arriving back just after our 2PM checkout time and had time to finish off our final packing and checkout before Alex arrived to take us to the airport.

The trip to the airport was full of mixed feelings for me. I was about to start the next part of my trip - three weeks in England with wife Patricia. I was meeting her and son Garth in London that evening.

We had been warned to be at the airport early to make sure we weren't held up by any of the security checks but in the event we had no problems getting through. There were some people at the terminal entrance, however, who were not being allowed in yet because their flight was some time away. I even offered to go through the outgoing customs check and was waved away with a smile.

On the BA flight to Heathrow I sat next to a Brit who was returning from a 5-day short holiday with his partner and two friends so we had a bit of a chat to while away the time. He told me they are coming to Oz with the Barmy Army for the Ashes tour in December. On touchdown at Heathrow there was no spontaneous applause on landing as there had been when we landed at Pulkovo on Friday evening. Most disappointing. I think it would be a good thing to do on any flight. (Any landing is a good landing).

At Heathrow immigration control I got the Spanish Inquisition (no one expects the Spanish Inquisition - Monty Python) since I was arriving from Russia, had been to the UK in August and must generally have looked a bit sus. Eventually I got through and after collecting our baggage we hopped onto the underground in to Earls Court (previously known as Kangaroo Valley during the heyday of Aussie working holiday trips in the late 60s and 70s). We managed to flag down a traditional London Cab and after dropping Mike and Sandra at their hotel I got to my hotel in Lancaster Gate and met up with Pat and Garth. We had dinner in while discussing plans for Thursday when we were to pick up our rental car and depart London pronto. Then to bed in a small over-heated room, but the story of our English experiences will be the subject of another series of posts.

St Petersburg, Russia - Part 9

Tuesday was our second day of discussions and proceeded much the same as Monday had except that this time Cyrus hadn't overslept. We had more discussions and presentations and then they took us to a Georgian Restaurant for lunch. Earlier in our visit I had tried to get a bottle of Georgian red wine for dinner as it is apparently quite distinctive and worth trying. Georgian wine wasn't available however because of some trade disagreement (apparently about quality) between Russia and Georgia. It seems that during the Soviet days such things didn't occur because of all being part of the same union but now that national boundaries have been re-established old rivalries and mistrusts have started to reappear.

All of these problems, however, don't stop Russians from enjoying Georgian cuisine which seems to centre on lots of meat cooked in various ways and accompanied by different styles of bread. For lunch we enjoyed one of the Georgian favourite meat preparations which is effectively meat barbecued on 'swords'. Real swords aren't used now but the large skewers are made up to resemble swords. This was accompanied by a light bread and the whole meal was quite enjoyable.

Late afternoon as we were about to leave the office I took some photographs of the JT guys who had made our visit quite a productive one.

Cyrus, Dan, Sergey, August and Mike

For dinner on Tuesday night we decided to try to get into Yolki Palki again. This time we were successful although we had to wait 20 minutes for a table to become available, such is the popularity of the place. We had some traditional Russian fare, of which the most memorable was the piroshki (Russian pies) and a mandatory shot of vodka.

Back at the hotel we broached the bottle of champagne and demolished the cake for a late dessert. I had promised to play some harmonica for Sandra and Mike so did of (probably woeful) impromptu kletzmer style on a G-minor harp and a bit of bluesy stuff on an E harp.

St Petersburg, Russia - Part 8

Before closing off my birthday in St Petersburg I should draw attention to the three chocolate bars which Mike and Sandra gave me. They have the most picturesque wrappers that I felt I had to keep them so that I can share them. They are almost as good as the chocolate itself!
I should mention also that my plan had been to share the champagne and cake provided by the Radisson hotel with Sandra and Mike after dinner. By the time we got back to the hotel after dinner it was about 1AM so that plan went by the wayside. We had another novel experience while getting back to the hotel. Being very late we didn't want to walk all the way back but we were didn't have enough Russian to confidently negotiate with a taxi driver. Anyway, we walked to Nevsky Pr with Dan and Veronika and they flagged down a passing car. Actually the one they flagged for us turned out to be a regular taxi. In St Petersburg private citizens often earn a bit of extra income by cruising for fares as irregular taxis. The deal is, apparently that you tell them where you want to go and what you are willing to pay and all being agreed you have a ride to your destination at the agreed fare. Regular taxis are supposed to work by the meter but innocents like us can get stung because we don't know the language and are not confident enough to control the situation. Anyway, Veronika having flagged down a taxi for us (and an irregular had pulled up for her and Dan) she told the driver to take us to the hotel and gave him the fare - no discussion, no argument - simple. It was hardly an adventure being straight up Nevsky Pr to the hotel but it removed an uncertainty from our situation, for which we were grateful.

St Petersburg, Russia - Part 7

Monday was our first day of business discussions so we were duly picked up by Alex and then had to pick up Cyrus on our way to meet with the JT people - way out in an industrial district. There office is in an old building opposite a power station. Interestingly the owner of the building keeps a couple of Russian classic cars in the yard - one of them a Zin.

The JT team - Sergey, August, Alex, and their US manager, Dan, proved to be easy to get on with and we had several good sessions with them. For lunch they took us to an Italian restaurant where Pizza proved to be popular. Getting to and from in the St Petersburg lunch hour took a while but it provided opportunities for conversations in the car.

Asking Sergey and August their thoughts about global warming they are very definite that it is a highly visible trend in their part of the world. There is an up side for them though in that it is bringing warmer summers and winters. A downside for the Siberian and northern Russia regions though is that the permafrost area is retreating with consequent massive ecological change that is not necessarily good.

After a fruitful afternoon of discussions is back to the hotel and then on to the Hermitage Theatre to see Swan Lake which had been organised for us by our Russian hosts. On arrival back at the hotel I was just refreshing in my room when a knock at the door came. It was a room service girl bringing me, on behalf of the hotel, a bottle of champagne, a card, and a cake for my birthday - a very nice gesture. Sandra and Mike came by later with a card and three very attractively wrapped chocolate bars, which was also much appreciated.

With little time to spare it was off to the Hermitage Theatre with Alex and Cyrus. The Theatre is fairly small and is in the rear of the main Hermitage - entered from the embankment side. Dan and his wife Veronika, and August and his wife Anna were to meet us there. We waited around outside for a while but it was cold and raining so we went inside to wait. As well we did because they don't have allocated seating - its first in best seated. We managed to score a long bench at the top right with good views of the stage so we were all able to be together when the others arrived. The extra warm clothing we had to wear came in handy for reserving seating space for the late arrivals in our group.

Cyrus, August, Anna, Mike and Sandra

After the inevitable wait for everyone to settle down etc the ballet started and I took a photo of the opening scene, just as the dancers had come onto the stage. I was severely chastised by an attendant but later on there were many more people taking photos without getting any attention from the attendants.

The ballet turned out to be quite entertaining, despite earlier misgivings I'd voiced to Mike. After the ballet we all made our way across Dvortsovaya Place to the Hermitage Restaurant which is just under the arch in the general staff buildings. Dinner was very sumptuous and entertaining. again they celebrated my birthday with a little cake bringing a great day close to its end.

Mike, Sandra, Cyrus, Veronika and Dan at the Hermitage Restaurant