For those of you aquainted with Red Dwarf, yesterday was as if I had donned a pair of 'better than life' game-sets for a brief moment. If you haven't a clue what I'm talking about, think personal shangri-la.
I should paint the picture: I was in a pub. To all intents and purposes a traditional english boozer, although of course it was located on the edge of Siberia, on a beautifully warm evening in the delightful town of Yekaterinburg. I has holding in my hand a pint of Moorland's magnificent Hen's Tooth, which even in England is as difficult to find as, well, hen's teeth. Instead of scrumming at the bar for half an hour I was served at my table by beautiful ladies. The table with the perfect view of the screen showing the the opening of the world cup. Electric Six were playing on the stereo, and I had the sincillating company of Ellen and our terrific host Oksana. A red letter day, to be sure.
Such reminicences are only marred by the prospect of not being able to get out of this town - all tickets for everywhere seem to be sold out and we may not manage to get to the Altai mountains. Ah well, we shall see what turns up.