I didn't know what type of day out Katya and her father had planned, but I hoped it would be worth getting up in the dark at 7 for. They picked me up outside my building at 8 and we drove for three hours - in Oleg Viktorovich's very expensive and very comfortable car - to his friend's village, 60 kilometres from Rybinsk. The journey itself was memorable. Katya slept on my shoulder for most of the way so I had time to admire the scenery of Yaroslavskaya province. The roads were lined with pine trees, covered in thick snow and seemingly frozen. The sun hadn't risen so everything was still, white and grey in the dawn light. I took in everything to the sound of classic Soviet music: a man growling thoughtful lyrics and playing
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