So near, yet so far.

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I didn't do much this morning apart from eat. Coffee was prohibited because of my chest pains the night before but there was meat pel'meni and Ana's favourite chocolates, to go with my tea.

We decided to look for a change of surroundings in the afternoon. By the time we had got a taxi into the centre of the village and a first minibus to Pervomaisk we were too late for the last one to Lugansk. So we made our way back. It wasn't an entirely wasted journey; I saw a bit more of the eerie grey blocks of flats and frost covered dark fields, and listened to the 'in-bus' entertainment of Ukrainian radio with all the latest hits. I was about as un-amused by Tom Jones' 'Sex Bomb' as the 15 babushki with us. Being outside for only five minutes reminded me that cold knows no borders; my feet were in pain even through fur lined boots.

We ran inside from the cold and had a late lunch of mashed potato with deceptively hot mustard. In the evening we watched an American film with Russian voice-overs and then 'Vozvraschenie'. As usual the heating was turned up in the cottage and I had to have ten minutes' sleep on Ana's shoulder every so often.

It's too early to judge properly, but Ukraine seems to me like Russia's little brother. He is smaller, grubbier and doesn't have as much desire to be big and powerful. He listens to pop music not drum and bass or heavy metal, and he is a bit more easy going. I think would I get on with him better.

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