It's just after midnight at terminal 1 in Londons heathrow airport. In 9 hours we will be boarding a BMI flight to Moscow. Despite all odds, me and deirdre ( dee henceforth) are both here, steadily sobering up, from some absolute vodka. In fact she is in her sleeping bag on a 4 seat bench that's bisected by a arm rest , where her spine lies is anyone's guess, not least the droves of businessmen mixed with howling Indian ladies that clutter past. To fully comprehend the mammoth achievement that was us getting here let's recap the last few weeks. We are in my old apartement in Cork. We have been recommended an agency in London by the Trans Siberian tour rep Sanjay to "streamline" the visa acquisition process. Before going further, the notion of "streamlining"
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