My English Library Returns to Moscow

My library is finally back home. After I had moved and posted everything that needed to go before anything else, there only remained hardbacks and photocopies to be transported from Manchester to Moscow. That was the end of December, 2013.

In 2014, my grandma died, then the anti-Crimean sanctions struck, a little later, in the aftermath of the flood, we were faced with a complete makeover of the flat… The prospect of bringing the books and papers to Moscow was delaying with every passing month and year.

Then I made a resolution to have them all back to Moscow by the end of 2019. And when that didn’t work, I didn’t back down but instead adjusted the deadline. I suppose I was as determined as Cato the Elder when he professed the imminent destruction of Carthage. None of us knew exactly when this would happen but both of us were determined to live to the day. Well, I certainly was.

So, the books are finally here, and I have also been able to appreciate the long-term friendly ties that remain despite the boundaries and time. One friend helped to pack the boxes, another arranged the posting. Here in Moscow I had some books delivered by the courier; a few I picked up from my local post office; and one I had to collect from a remote post office in a taxi.

This weekend was spent putting the books on the shelves. The papers are still to be accommodated in their new abode. One thing I have already done was to look through my treasured Unseen Vogue and People in Vogue editions. In one of the pictures you can see Wallis Simpson and the former king Edward VIII, photographed by Cecil Beaton.

Neighbourhood Cam: Mid-September Sunset

It may seem I live from sunset to sunset – so many of them have I captured in the last few years since I was back to Moscow. Each of them is truly spectacular. Occasionally, I think that I could move to the countryside, but one thing that would influence my decision is the opportunity to watch sunsets.

I worked with a guy whose parents lived in a house halfway between Cambridge and Chichester. From the front it was just another country house, but the back door led from the kitchen into the yard that overlooked the beautiful expanse of either rapeseed or rye framed on the horizon by the woods’ greenery and the azure sky. We visited his parents in the evening, it was summer, the sun was setting slowly, and the sky was lazily donning the darker blues, adding a tint of feminine pinks to its subdued countryside glamour.

So, if that could be the view from my backyard that I would get upon moving to the country, I probably wouldn’t give it a second thought. Meanwhile, I continue enjoying the captivating sunsets from my block of flats.