Icons? Samovars? Defintely no piano...

Monday. The piano that myself and the neighbours so painstakingly moved through the dark confines of our joined-up cellar is, according to the local piano tuner, beyond repair. Now we need to move it back again. This news does not impress the piano teacher at Sammy's school later the same day, who already looks down at us through her pince-nez as a dead loss family. Sammy meanwhile merrily bangs away at the keyboard all the same. Today I also find I'm on my way to Moscow. The last time I was in Russia - St Petersburg to be precise - the border control (all five hundred of them) that boarded the Helsinki train ransacked our luggage looking for samovars and icons (as you do). If they had been looking for counterfeit DVDs, then our party may well have been in trouble. Needless to say, the bureaucracy battle now facing me for this trip is enormous. If I'm to make the meeting in April, negotiations begin now. Last time I picked up a Russian visa I was conned out of a few hundred kroner because I had the temerity to pick up my documents a day late. We'll see how it goes this time round. Fingers crossed. Maybe I can sneak back a grand piano?