Keep your friends close.

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My new flat is on ulitsa Bolshaya Oktyabr'skaya, which runs opposite ulitsa Pobedy. My building is near where I went horse riding last month, and I'm only five minutes away from Chiara who lives in a neighbourhood I know quite well. The stairs are almost completely dark and smell worse than where I have moved from. My room is an early 1900's style living room with a brown rug, a small bed in the corner and a cupboard that takes up an entire wall. Along the other wall is a five-seat sofa, with a foot rest. It is on the first floor so there is a permanent loud, high-pitched squeaking and low-pitched grunting of trams outside, and when one passes the building twice a minute the room shakes.

My new hozyaika is a lady called Marina Ivanovna, who is in her fifties. She speaks a small amount of English, and when I told her I would rather speak in Russian she decided to mix her sentences up, some words in each language. She has three cats, who are very tame and slow moving, and who share my room. Or rather I share theirs. The toilet and kitchen are quite old fashioned. Their are never any lights on even when Marina Ivanovna is in the flat so it is very gloomy - but it will do.

I have already told her that I will never be home before 10 at night, and I will use it simply as a place to wash and sleep; firstly it is an ugly, anonymous neighbourhood that I don't want to feel at home in. Secondly I want to be with my friends as much as possible, especially as there are so many plans for their last week.

Thirdly - inside two weeks - I have been lied to, patronised, lied about, pushed around, ignored and insulted by Russian people who I do not know. From now on my life is my own; I will talk only to the people I trust, and who do not want anything from me.

The low grey clouds have left, and the sky is now a clear, cold blue.

My first breakfast was sweet kasha, tall glasses of yoghurt and clementine juice, three pieces of white bread and a cup of weak green tea. I ate most of it then went back to bed. My body is exhausted and I need to rest, especially as my ribs still hurt from an ice-skating fall when Dawn fell on me!

The Shinnik versus Rubin match kicked off at 2. It was the last game of the season, so seeing as we weren't in line for any prizes - and the temperature was minus 4 - the stadium was less than half full. The fans which came brought a lot of fireworks, spelled out 'Shinnik' with them in the opposite stand before the game, then threw them into the air. There were fourteen home fans from England, which was more than the number of away supporters from Kazan! After ten minutes Shinnik were already winning 2-0, the first goal a close range header over the goalkeeper and the second a superb left footed shot from 30 yards. There was another goal before half-time to make it 3-0. Rubin scored twice in the second half to make the result 3-2 but by then no-one was concentrating on the football. I spent 45 minutes tapping my feet but couldn't stop them from freezing painfully, and clumsily trying to eat popcorn from a huge tub while wearing Clare's thermal gloves. A man three rows behind us passed a bottle of vodka down for us to sample - which only Chris J accepted. Chris and myself agree that there is a Russian mentality that a person is either 'nash' or 'ne nash', one of us or not one of us. So the hostility towards non-Russians evaporates when there is a common interest - for example a game of football - and that person briefly becomes 'ours'.

After the game everyone ran onto the pitch to applaud the players so we went on to. Unfortunately by that time I hadn't bought my Pogrebnyak Shinnik shirt!

There was another party at Yartek in the evening, then most of us went by taxi to a club on the outskirts of town, 'Avan-Gard'.

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Photos

My new neighbourhood, in winter.
A short term solution. Never my home.