Bill's Travels

Hallo there, Keesha, and thank you for your good wishes. How we ended up in Luxembourg is pretty simple - I was working in Germany for the US Army newspaper Stars and Stripes as a printer/proofreader/keyboard operator. This, of course, was in the days of hot metal when the type was set on Linotype, Intertype or Monotype machines. When the first computer was introduced it was much faster than the traditional Linotype as you could type away on a TTS keyboard almost as fast as a straightforward copy typist. The TTS keyboards produced 7-level punched paper tape, without the text being justified. We then ran the tape through the computer which rapidly spat out a tape at the other end with justified text, word breaks, paragraph breaks, etc. This computer was replaced by another a year or two later, which was faster and did virtually everything except make the tea.
However easy this made our working lives I could see that fewer people were going to be needed as one person could now turn out the work previously done by 2. Under the terms of the agreement the US government had with the German government, the British would be the first to go in the event of a staff reduction. The Americans would be next and the Germans last.
We enjoyed life as expats and weren't ready to return to Britain just yet. Our boys were both fluent in German, down to the local Hessen dialect, I had learnt German by enrolling in the local Berlitz school and Jackie learnt it by chatting with the neighbours, reading magazines and newspapers and watching TV.
Thus I felt that we could put our language skills to work by finding employment with an international organisation, but I realised that there wasn't much urgency. Then I saw an ad in the printing trade union magazine that I belonged to looking for freelance proofreaders in Luxembourg. I sent off my application, and after a wait heard back with a job offer. I didn't accept straight away, but phoned and made an appointment to learn more about what was on offer.
Jackie and I, with the boys in the back of the car, drove to Luxembourg the next day. I dropped them off in the town centre (both the capital and the country are called Luxembourg) and went on to my appointment. I discovered, during the course of the interview, that they needed English language proofreaders to produce the English versions of the Treaties that the UK had acceded to when it joined the EEC. As a freelance I would have no health insurance or other benefits, nor any paid holiday. I would be paid for the pages I turned out - and that was it. However, when Britain's accession took place there would be competitions held to fill permanent posts and I would be able to enter.
I went back to town, met up with my family and we discussed the future. One of the benefits of a permanent job there was health insurance for the whole family, a pension scheme, and a benefit which I though was important - if Jackie or I were to die in an accident our boys would receive an orphan's pension, so that whoever in our families took on the responsibility of taking care of them would be compensated and the boys would have a decent quality of life.
So that was how we came to Luxembourg. I duly sat the exam, passed it and became an established European Commission civil servant, working at their publications office. I learnt French in the classes organised by the Commission; the boys learned it at the school they attended and Jackie picked it up (imperfectly as she admits) through her job and her colleagues.
As the boys grew older Jackie took a job as school secretary (later promoted to Registrar) at an international school. She worked there until we retired in 2001. She now draws a Luxembourg pension and has Luxembourg national health insurance.
When we retired we thought a life in the Mediterranean sun would be ideal so we sold our holiday home in Spain and bought an olive finca. Within 18 months we realised we'd made a mistake and put the finca on the market. It took another 18 months to sell it, but 3 years to the day after we'd moved there we drove back to Luxembourg. And we intend to stay here for the rest of our lives.
As for learning Luxembourgish we didn't need to when we first came as we always used either German or French. On our return from Spain we thought we should make the effort and joined a class organised by our local town hall. We completed the course but there was one problem - so many Luxembourgers want to perfect their English that as soon as they hear our English accents they immediately answer us in English and continue in English. Luxembourgers are mostly fantastic linguists. In our local hypermarket all the checkout girls have little flags over their cash register denoting the languages they speak. I have seen these young ladies with 5, sometimes six flags, showing they speak German, French, Luxembourgish, English, Portuguese, Spanish or Italian. I can't think of any other country where the checkout girls are multilingual as a matter of course.

Thank you, Keesha, I'm touched by your remarks and the good wishes. I should be honest here, my knowledge of and use of English seems to be a God-given gift. I've never really had to work at it. Another gift I have is that I only have to see a word once and I can spell it for ever after. It gave my marks a big boost in school, and this little oddity works in other languages as well. In French or German I can always spell a word after having seen it once. It's almost the same with grammar and syntax. For instance a phrase in German such as "Ich hab' mein Herz in Heidelberg verloren" (It's the title of an old song) means I lost my heart in Heidelberg. However, the syntax is different from English which can be shown by translating it literally word for word as "I have my heart in Heidelberg lost." Verloren is the past participle of the verb "to lose" i.e. "lost". Once that was explained to me I had it in my head ever after and never had a problem with it. On the other hand the cases, Nominative, Accusative, Genitive and Dative still give me problems. I know why this is and it's very simple - I didn't always learn the gender of the nouns and if you don't know the gender you can't get the definite article ("the") in its correct form, nor any associated adjectives, as they must correspond.
I was quite shy about this when I was learning the language in Germany, but a German colleague told me that most Germans would be so delighted that I would speak to them in their own language that they'd happily overlook any errors. And so it proved
On top of that, I've learned to love the English language for it's flexibility - it's far more flexible than any other European language - something I didn't realise as I was growing up for the simple reason that like all kids I just accepted what I learnt without going any deeper. This only came home to me when an Italian colleague, whose English was remarkably good, pointed this out to me after I had made a joke involving a play on words. Thinking over what he'd said set off a little light in my head and I became much more conscious of the beauties of our mother tongue. An example is a joke: An Englishwoman was visiting a French friend's house for the first time and when she was shown the bathroom she looked in astonishment at the bidet which she was seeing for the first time. "Oh," she exclaimed in astonishment. "Is that to wash the baby in?" "No," said the Frenchwoman. "It's to wash the baby out." Now that joke cannot be translated into any European language I know and when I told it to my Italian friend when we were discussing English he said that was exactly what he meant when he said you could play around with the English language in ways that are impossible in other languages.
I've always been a voracious reader and was a very precocious schoolboy when it came to reading and spelling. In reading lessons the teachers always sat me off to the side with a more advanced book than the other kids in the class and I used to read at my own speed.
I made my mother take me to the library on my 8th birthday as soon as it opened (10 a.m.) as 8 was the earliest age they would let you have a library card. By the time I was 10 I had read many books, including Oliver Twist and A Christmas Carol. Looking back, I can't remember any kids who would read Charles Dickens the way I did. I also read the usual books that most children read - Enid Blyton, and my all time favourite Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows. At the age of 11 I discovered H.G. Wells and read all his short stories as well as The War of the Worlds, The Invisible Man, The First Men in the Moon, The War in the Air and The History of Mr Polly. The last one was for O-Levels.
When I retired one of the things I promised myself was that I would catch up on the classics I hadn't had time for during my working days. I have kept up with this promise, although I still also read crime or spy thrillers, and have read Les Miserables, The Count of Monte Cristo, War and Peace, Dr Zhivago, Hugh Walpole's Mr Perrin and Mr Traill and The Captives, H. Rider Harggard's The People of the Mist, all of the Sherlock Holmes tales and others of Arthur Conan Doyle such as The Lost World. I ordered the collected works of Jules Verne for my Kindle and so far have read two - 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Journey to the Centre of the Earth. Others include Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone, Joseph Conrad's Lord Jim and The Heart of Darkness, Robinson Crusoe, The Complete Short Stories of Guy de Maupassant, John Masefield's Jim Davis, H. de Vere Stacpoole's The Blue Lagoon. (De Vere Stacpoole, coincidentally, once had a valet who was married to my great aunt.)
Anyway, I've rambled on for far too long and I'm in great danger of becoming boring, so I will just add a thank you to all the people who have sent me alerts when they have liked something I wrote. Thank you all so much.

The ship turned out to be as luxurious as in the brochure (and we all know that’s not always the case, don’t we?). The restaurant was situated at the stern with windows on three sides giving great views of the scenery we were passing through, though I should say that she was going to stay in Moscow for four nights so we didn’t actually pass through any scenery for a while.

The passengers were about two thirds American and one third British but we all got along pretty well. In fact, the next morning at breakfast a group of Americans invited us to join their table and a jolly start to the day it proved to be. In fact, one of the American men had Luxembourg ancestors and we had several chats over the ensuing couple of weeks. Later on another American woman told us her family originated in Heiderscheid, a village in the northern part of Luxembourg.

There were tables for two, four or larger groups and there was open seating, so one could sit wherever you wished at each meal.

The food was always first class. For breakfast there was a variety of breads, rolls and pastries, yoghurts both plain and fruit flavoured, various cereals as well as cheeses and hams. There were two egg stations where you could have your eggs cooked any way you wanted - fried eggs, sunny side up, over easy or over hard, omelettes with mushrooms, sliced peppers, onion, sausage, bacon or cheese in any combination you chose. There were plenty of low carb possibilities so I didn’t have much difficulty in starting off the day without worrying about a spike in my BS. There was also an alternative Continental breakfast in one of the bars on the upper deck for those passengers who preferred a lighter start to the day.

For lunch we usually had a choice of a meat dish, fish or a salad. The meal began with a starter that may have been oyster, shrimp, an egg dish or vegetable creation. The meat may have been fillet steak, roast beef, filet mignon lamb cutlets. The fish could be turbot, cod or any other sea fish. Late in the cruise we were invited along to the local market to sample the cheeses and hams on sale. The chef came with us and took the opportunity to buy a quantity of pike perch, a delicious fresh water fish called sandre in France and Zander in German speaking areas. Accompanying the main dishes was a number of vegetables with maybe one potato, French beans, peas, carrot, each in small quantities. Thus keeping to a low carb diet wasn’t difficult. Desserts were either a cooked dessert, an ice cream with a choice of sauces such as berries, apple, pear or other delights. The final choice was the cheese platter, always a good fallback option for a diabetic, though I was quite happy about my BS levels so I had an ice cream more often than I would have done in other circumstances.

There was an alternative to this, again in one of the bars on the upper deck where a light buffet was available.

Sometimes a Russian speciality would appear on the menu, most of which were surprisingly good. I say surprisingly because my original prejudices were that Russian food would typically be peasant style food - but I'm happy to say I was wrong.

We had paid for the Silver Spirits Drinks Package, which meant that we paid a certain sum in advance and could then drink whatever we liked, including French wines with meals, without any further outlay. Our servers, a Filipino man named Mickey and a young Russian lady named Maria, quickly learned that we liked the French red wines available and always had the bottles ready.

After breakfast the following day there was a safety drill, rather important I thought, as one of the lakes we would be crossing is as large as Switzerland and we would be out of sight of land for a while. It didn’t take long as the ship takes 200 passengers, not at all like those floating apartment blocks that take up to 5000 passengers on sea cruises. Once we had learned how to don our life jackets, where the staircases were and how to reach the lifeboats we were free, so Jackie and I adjourned to the bar for a chat with a couple from Wales with whom we sometimes shared a table. Lunch was fairly early(ish) at 12, a city tour of Moscow being due to depart at 1.30.

We weren’t due to get back until fairly late from the tour so dinner was scheduled for 9.30 and as we left the ship we were given snack boxes to tide us over. The drive into Moscow was as traffic ridden as ever so it took about 45 minutes before we were dropped off outside the Bolshoi Theatre. With my newly discovered interest in ballet Jackie and I had thought that a visit to the Boilshoi, the premier ballet company in the world, would be a must, but when we discovered that the tickets would cost around $750 each we reluctantly passed on it. Later on, when we were in St Petersburg, there was a surprise for us.

The Bolshoi Theatre is an impressive building in neo-classical style, with pillars supporting a portico, the whole edifice looks as if it has been lifted straight out of Rome. From there we made our way to the entrance to Red Square. There are two ways in, which are actually one very wide thoroughfare with a very large building in the middle, effectively dividing the entrance into two.

We stopped outside and our guide told us that the toilets were here and if anybody needed to use them we would wait. This was a big mistake as most of the women made a beeline for the steps but it turned out there was a long wait. So the rest of us stood and waited for approaching a half hour, which cut down our time in Red Square. If the guide had gone just inside the entrance to Red Square and then told the women where to meet up again in an hour and a half we wouldn’t have wasted so much time. As it was, a number of us didn’t have time to see everything we wanted to.

Red Square is big, but not as big as it appears in old newsreels when the Soviet government stood on the balcony and the Red Army marched past with rockets, tanks and other armaments on display. To the right is the Kremlin wall, with Lenin’s tomb halfway along. Facing that is the GUM department store, which was something of a laughing stock in the Communist period as there were always shortages of manufactured goods and foodstuffs and vegetables. Anybody who remembered it in the old days would be totally amazed by the choice available now, I’m told. I wanted to go in and have a look around, but our long wait put a stop to that. Jackie and I weren’t best pleased.

However, St Basil’s Cathedral, which sits at the opposite end of the square is the dazzlingly painted, eye-catching epitome of the Russian Orthodox Church’s symbolic onion domes. This shape came about, we were told, to prevent the snow building up on them in the winter and bringing them crashing down from the weight.

Having done a walk around Red Square and without enough time to have a look around the GUM store we bought ices from a beautifully decorated little cart with highly polished brass covers over the tubs of ice creams, sat on a ledge and ate them in the gentle spring sunshine.It was then time to return to the meeting point for our bus.

We spent a while making our way to a well known Moscow overlook called Sparrow Point. Our route took us to a pretty little lake (whose name now totally escapes me) and along a suburban route until we climbed a steepish road, emerging at the top close to Sparrow Point. We walked from the bus park to the lookout, not a long walk, and were astonished at how far we could see over the city. We could see numerous buildings that we’d had close up views of but could now see in the context of the entire city. We spent about 20 minutes there, taking photos and absorbing the views before reboarding our bus.

Our next stop was the last of the evening and was billed as a Folkore Evening. Now I must confess I’m a complete Philistine when it comes to folk music or folk lore, and I tried to find a way of avoiding this part of the programme but to no avail. I didn’t want to sit on the bus for a couple of hours and it was a bit too breezy to hang around outside the theatre, so reluctantly i accompanied Jackie into the theatre.

And am I glad I did! When the concert began I was astonished firstly at the youth of the musicians who were all playing traditional Russian instruments, such as the balalaika, and others I didn't recognise and secondly at how expert they were. The conductor walked on, bowed, and briefly introduced the orchestra’s history. Then he announced the first number and they began to play. I was entranced - these were seriously talented musicians and they played with such enthusiasm that you just couldn’t resist their infectious delight in their music. They played everything from old Russian songs to Lara’s Theme from Dr Zhivago. At the end of the concert the applause was enough to bring the roof down, and as we left everybody was saying the same thing - they would happily sit through another hour and a half of such entertainment.

Thanks for the compliment, Keesha. I don't have any difficulty in remembering any of the books I've read, but I'm not sure why that is, even when it's been Mickey Spillane. (I even remember that Mike Hammer's secretary and PA was named Zelda.) When I was in the air force at RAF Hereford I took a couple of Hemingway titles out of the base library - For Whom the Bell Tolls, and A Farewell to Arms. Perhaps I was in the wrong place and the wrong time to start on a new (to me) author, but I couldn't finish either of them. Some years later I read Death in the Afternoon, and finished it pretty quickly. I've never got around to reading any more Hemingway books - even a voracious reader like myself can't keep up with all the books I want to read. As Clint Eastwood once said in a movie, "A man's got to know his limitations." I now acknowledge my limitations when it comes to books.

The next day, Sunday, was a lazy day for us. There were several tours on offer but we took a day off. In the morning I went for a brisk walk through the park close to where the ship was moored and then out onto the highway where a number of shops were open. I wasn’t shopping as we didn’t need anything, but I always find stores in countries that are new to me quite fascinating. There was a petrol station along there and I was totally surprised at the prices of fuel. A litre of diesel was 45 pence a litre. Now, Luxembourg has the cheapest fuel in the area but even we were surprised at Russian prices.

Another very nice thing about Russian cities is that there is no rubbish on the streets at all. Not even a cigarette end. There are countries noted for being super clean, Singapore, Switzerland, and even our very own Luxembourg spring to mind, but Russia equalled them in all the towns and cities we visited.After I returned to the boat Jackie and I headed for the bar where we settled down with our iPads and some coffee. Others came in and a couple we had shared a table with a couple of times came over and asked to join us. As it was a good time for a pre-lunch drink we ordered a round and passed a pleasant half-hour or so before descending to the restaurant.

We didn’t leave the ship again until 9 pm when we had signed up for a tour of Moscow by night. I should say at this point that I noticed it got dark much later than at home in Luxembourg, and night was just beginning to fall when we arrived in the centre of Moscow.

We drove to a point behind St Basil’s Cathedral and it was just about dark when we got there. Our driver approached from the back of the cathedral, telling us that there would be far fewer people on this side. And he knew what he was talking about. We were able to get some great shots of the floodlit onion domes against the starry sky. We spent more time in Red Square, seeing the Kremlin’s red stone walls, again by floodlight. It’s surprising how different these outstanding landmarks look by night, when powerful lighting picks out their most prominent features.

We spent a little more time on the bus, driving through various areas of Moscow, including the overlook of Sparrow Point, which gave us a splendid view of Moscow’s lights.

From there we carried on for a while until we arrived at the Moscow Canal. A passenger boat was waiting for us and took us on a cruise along the canal.

It was by now not fully dark, but more like a late twilight and as dark as it gets in Moscow at that time of year. The boat moved off and we began to notice how cold it was - so cold in fact that most of us picked up the blankets that were on our seats and we were all sitting on and draped them around ourselves. A Russian had told us that two weeks previously the Moscow River had been frozen over and they’d had to bring out icebreakers to make navigation possible for smaller boats.

The cold didn’t spoil the sightseeing, though, and we were all impressed with the buildings, monuments and statues, all brightly floodlit. We even passed the Kremlin, its walls glowing like rubies in the bright lights. Once again it reminded me how beautiful Moscow is.

We returned to our ship after midnight and quickly fell into bed as we had another trip the next day, this time a tour of the Kremlin at 9.30.

An early breakfast was our choice to give us enough time to get our things together for the tour without having to rush too much, so it was a calm departure in the bus as we took the now familiar route into the capital.

The word kremlin in Russian simply means fortress, and that was exactly what the present day Kremlin started out as. It is now so big that it has outgrown its origins as a simple defensive structure and now serves several purposes: seat of government, home to museums and home to several cathedrals.

Our bus dropped us off outside and we had to stand in line for a security check before we were allowed in. Our hearts dropped when we saw the lengths of the queues so we were pleasantly surprised at how fast the process went and we were through and inside the Kremlin in a very short time indeed.

A short walk from the entrance brought us to a square lined with five apparent cathedrals. It turned out that only three were true cathedrals: the Assumption Cathedral, the Archangel Cathedral and the Annunciation Cathedral. Of the remaining two one is a still active church, the Church of the Laying of Our Lady’s Holy Robe and the other is the Patriarchs’ Palace.

All of these buildings have the traditional onion domes, all glittering in the sunlight in gold and silver leaf. The Russian Orthodox churches do not have pews as all worshippers stand throughout the service - except for those who, either through age or for health reasons cannot stand, who are provided with benches.

The interiors of these cathedrals and churches are incredibly ornate with icons and paintings covering the interior walls. If we’d stayed there for a week we wouldn’t have been able to view every piece of art in the cathedrals.

A short walk brought us to the Ivan the Great Bell Tower Ensemble, which houses a museum on the history of the Kremlin. Once again time didn’t permit a long visit. As we walked away from this area we passed the building where the seat of the Russian Federation’s government is to be found. The windows of the office of President Putin were pointed out to us and very impressive they looked.

We made our way back to the bus, unable to dawdle as our ship was due to sail shortly after lunch. We wouldn’t dare miss either of those two events.

After lunch we cast off, the ship moved away from the quayside and we began our cruise in earnest. Moscow is an enormous city and it was quite a while before we were cruising through open countryside. I knew that Russia produced a lot of plywood as I knew someone who was in the business of manufacturing plywood boxes and he used to go on buying trips to Russia several times a year, but I wasn’t prepared for the enormous number of birch trees that covered the landscapes we passed. Russia has vast swathes of forest over its entire area, stretching from the Baltic to the northern Pacific, which includes Siberia, so a lot of construction, especially in the countryside, is basically of wood. I have no idea if Russian forests are managed, i.e., areas are cut down but replanted. This is what happens in Luxembourg and throughout the EU, as far as I know.

There were two presentation during the course of the afternoon, the first on Russia and our cruise, the second being a language lesson in Russian. We went to both as more details of the cruise would be available at the first and we thought it would be fun to learn few words of Russian, even if it was only “please,” “thank you” and “good morning. Of course, the Cyrillic script confuses those of us who use the Western script so those three phrases were just about the only things that stuck in my memory.

At 6.30 we passed through the first of 6 locks on the Moscow Canal so we went up on deck to watch the action. A boat this size, carrying 200 passengers + crew, was a totally different procedure from the one I was used to when we had our boat on the Thames. Our last boat was a 33 ft. Freeman with twin British Leyland diesels. If I wanted to move the bows sideways to the left, for example, I would have to put the starboard (right) throttle in forward tickover and the (port) left throttle into astern tickover The bows would then move to the left as the boat swivelled about its centre point. There would be a little forward movement as well which the helmsman would have to cope with. Our Russian ship had bow thrusters, which is a propeller mounted in the bows (naturally) under the surface of the water. By simply moving a switch either left or right the bow thruster would turn and push water to the left, which would move the bows to the right, or vice versa. I was green with envy, although when I got it right on our boat (which was most most, but not all, of the time) the feeling of satisfaction was such that I was in danger of getting a swollen head.

Following that little bit of excitement we dived back to our cabin for a quick freshen up before we made our way to the Sky Bar on the top deck where we were welcomed on board, even though we had been sleeping and having our meals on board for several days already. The champagne flowed and we were introduced to the officers who would be taking care of us for the rest of the cruise. The Program Director (Alexander, or Sasha for short) then gave us a quick rundown on the excursions the next day.

The restaurant was open shortly after the Program Director) finished his presentation and we thoroughly enjoyed our first meal underway. The ship cruised on during the night while we snoozed the darkness away.

I took my usual low carb breakfast the next morning - eggs, mushrooms, bacon and sausages. And extremely good they were.

Shortly afterwards we went to a talk on the Romanov dynasty, which came to an end with the tragic murder of Tsar Nicholas II, his wife Alexandra, their four daughters and their son, who would never become Tsar in his turn. They were all shot in the cellar of a house in Ekaterinburg, along with a number of their loyal servants who refused to leave them. Their bodies were then doused in acid, burnt and finally dumped in a disused mine.

A short while later there was a talk to bring us up to date on optional excursions available when we reached St Petersburg. We had already booked the ones we wanted to take before we left home, but we went along anyway in case there were any changes or we had second thoughts.

Shortly after lunch we arrived in Uglich, a small town due north of Moscow. We moored up and those of us who were going on the Uglich tour grabbed our cameras and disembarked to meet our local guide on the quayside. The first part was a walking tour to visit several of the local churches which we could see from the boat. Once again the onion domes were brightly coloured, reflecting the sunlight that was scattered upwards off the surface of the canal. I was constantly being taken aback by the variations on the domes’ shape and colour. Every one was different, even though the basics were the same.

This was followed by a visit (by bus) to a Russian family home where we met the mother and father and were invited inside their home to sample the produce of their garden. There were dishes of pickled gherkins, home-made bread, an apple dessert and glasses of what was described to us as homemade “moonshine”, a clear but fiery liquid of a high alcohol by volume content.

The mother of the family encouraged us to eat and as we did the moonshine came out. It seems there is a method of eating the bread, and drinking the moonshine after breathing in, holding your breath, swallowing the alcohol and then breathing out. We were a very jolly bunch who left the living room to have a look around the garden to see plots of flowers, vegetables patches, potato, courgettes, tomatoes, and the inevitable cucumbers. Once again the Russians we met were open, friendly and generous.

We had to be back on board by 5.45 pm as the ship was due to sail at 6. At 6.30 there was a meet-your-neighbours event where you stood in front of your stateroom door while champagne was handed out and you made the acquaintances of your neighbours. We missed that as we were in the bar having whisky and a g&t, and anyway, we had already met our neighbours in the days before we sailed.

Dinner was up to the usual high standard, with several choices for each course. We chose French wine to accompany it, as the Russian wine seems to lack a certain je ne sais quoi. Not that I wish to sound pretentious, you understand.

There will now be a short intermission in the saga of the Russian river cruise as we had tickets for the Andre Rieu concert in Maastricht. These concerts are an annual affair and we had been given tickets by our son as a joint birthday gift the year before. The ticket seller had taken him for a ride, charging him top prices for seats that were in the next to last row. Boy, was he mad when we got home and told him.

This year, Jackie had been browsing Facebook while we were in California in the January to February period. The demand had been so great that the Johann Strauss Orchestra had added another concert on Saturday, 22 July. We had tried to book for the first concerts announced, but they sold out so quickly that even a couple of hours after the tickets went on sale they were all gone. Which meant that this opportunity she had stumbled upon had to be acted upon quickly. So she bought two tickets in the centre block close to the front. Once that was verified I went online and made reservations in a hotel close to the Freedom Square where the concerts take place. I booked for the night before the concert and the night of the concert, i.e. the Friday and the Saturday nights, driving home on Sunday.

The drive to Maastricht was just over a couple of hours and there was only light traffic as part of the holiday rush was over and the next would start on Saturday. The weather was fine, as it had been for the whole of the previous week. We checked into the hotel in the early afternoon, deposited the car in the hotel car park, which was about 100 yards down the road but was at least under ground. The weather remained pleasant and we would normally have gone for a walk around the area to see what changes had been made since last year. Unfortunately, Jackie is now in so much pain from her hip that we keep any walking to a minimum.

Nevertheless, towards 7 p.m. we made our way for another hundred yards or so to the Market Square where there is a Chinese restaurant which is so good that we determined to visit on the first night. The lady owner recognised us from the previous year, a remarkable feat ,we thought, considering how many people pass through the restaurant in a month, let alone a year. But the year before we had had quite a long chat with her about her origins and ours so we must have stuck in her memory. Once again the food was as good as before and as most of the customers had left for the concert, by the time we had finished the restaurant was almost empty.

The owner came over as we finished our meal and we more or less carried on from where we left off last year. Soon other members of her family joined us and we had a fascinating chat, exchanging stories of how we found ourselves living in Luxembourg and how she and her family arrived in Maastricht from Hong Kong. However, they had to clear up their restaurant, which also includes a large terrace outside. At a guess I’d say they can seat around 200 people, so they work hard to keep up the standards in cooking and in the presentation of the restaurant and the table settings, all of which gleam.

We had had such a good meal and such a good time that we reserved a table for the following night, a little earlier this time as we had to walk to the Vrijthof Square and get there a while before 9 p.m.

Next morning we walked down to the Market Square where a flea market is held on Saturday mornings. We didn’t buy anything, though, but made our way slowly to the Vrijthof Square where we paused and had a coffee. The square was all set up for the evening's concert, the last for this year, but the cafes and restaurants around the square were open and serving. One or two even had tickets still on sale. The biggest drawback to these cafes is that you cannot see the stage directly but have to watch the proceedings on very, very large screens that are placed around the square.

All the time we were were watching the skies, hoping that the rain would stay away. Andre Rieu’s luck with the weather for these concerts year after after year is legendary but we had seen one forecast which predicted rain, while another said there was a 25% chance of rain.

We made our way slowly back towards the hotel, stopping off along the way for a light lunch of tuna salad.

By the time we got to the hotel Jackie was really in pain so we spent the afternoon resting her leg and looking forward to the operation on 2 August. Just after 6 we made our way back to the Chinese restaurant for dinner where we were welcomed and given a table. While we were eating we experienced one of those coincidences that normally only happen in books. A man stopped beside our table, grinning away, and said in German, “I told my wife I recognised those people sitting inside.” We looked up in astonishment - it was our next door neighbour from Luxembourg. We shook hands and then his wife came in and we had a chat. It had started to rain (!) as they crossed the square so had stopped for a beer on the terrace of our restaurant. The rain wasn’t much, just a light sprinkle, so they went back out to the terrace and made their way to the concert when the rain stopped.

When we had finished dinner we headed for the square, looking warily up at the sky every time we felt a drop of rain. Making our way to our seats we noticed that each seat had a plastic poncho and a bottle of mineral water sitting on it.

On our way in we had purchased a programme which was presented to us in a plastic bag, a convenient receptacle for our ponchos and water bottles. There was still the occasional spot of rain but nothing to get alarmed about. Suddenly, ten minutes early the music struck up and the violinist and his orchestra made their traditional entrance, walking through the audience towards the stage carrying their instruments. Ominously, they were holding umbrellas up as well as their instruments. They climbed onto the stage, took their places and took up the old opener “76 Trombones”.

Once the first piece finished the rain began to increase in intensity, triggering a rush among the audience to open up the packaging, get out the ponchos and slide them on.

With rain always a possibility, the stage is waterproofed so the musicians can carry on, whatever happens to the audience.

The rain began to get heavier and heavier. The orchestra played on and we sat there as the rainfall turned into one of Biblical proportions. At one point, Rieu raised his bow to begin another piece and the rain was so loud that he gestured to stop. He then began again and continued on.

I looked down at my lap where several litres of water had collected, tucked my feet under the chair and tipped the water out. This became a chore to be performed every 3 or 4 minutes.

The poncho's hood kept sliding down over my face, completely blocking my view. When I pushed it back I got a wet arm. I began to feel gloomier by the minute; Jackie seemed to be enjoying herself, which made me gloomier as it meant that I would have to stay with her. Noah would have felt quite at home in Maastricht that night.

As the first act finale, the Hallelujah Chorus, came to an end I turned to Jackie and asked if she really wanted to stay. She did, but after a few seconds thought again and agreed with me. We got up and made our way to the exit. As we walked out I looked back and saw a horde of very wet people following us. I have no idea how many sat it out to the damp and soggy end, but we were back in our hotel, drying off our feet and any other bits that were wet, before heading for the bar and a long awaited drink. Later, Jackie told me that if this had been our first Rieu concert she would probably have stayed, but as it was our fourth she decided that discretion was the better part of downpours. It was still raining torrentially when we went to bed so we didn’t hear the fireworks that accompany the end of the open air performances.

Next morning, the sun was out and the weather was perfect for our drive back home. Cor blimey, I thought, why couldn’t that **** rain have held off for 24 hours?.

Answer came there none.

My trousers, shirt and shoes are now dry so it’s back to Russia! We cruised all night, arriving in Yaroslavl at 8 a.m. There was a tour of the city at 8.15, so we’d been up a little earlier so we’d have time for a leisurely breakfast. We were now on the Volga River, so I had become a Volga Boatman (which, confidentially, had never been one of my ambitions in any case).

The Volga, though, is a mighty river. and we were due to cruise it for quite a while. After all, it’s the longest river in Europe. For the moment, however, we were going to drive around part of the city of Yaroslavl, with intervals where we descended from the bus to see certain sites of historical or cultural interest. The highlight of this excursion was a visit to the Governor’s House.

This palatial “house” was actually the home of the governor of the “oblast” (province). in the 19th century. It was also used by Russia’s rulers, such as Catherine the Great, as a travelling palace, where they would stop when travelling through their nation.

It now serves as an art museum with many examples of art from the period. The visitor can also see the governor’s office and period furniture. The restoration that has been carried out has brought back the splendours of the Tsarist era.

In the ballroom a group of young people, dressed in costumes of that period, gave a demonstration of the music and dances that would have been regularly part of life there. They whirl into polkas then glide into waltzes. The musicians, also dressed appropriately for the times, play the music for dancing. If you ignore your side vision, concentrating only on the dancers, you easily imagine that one of the young ladies was Tolstoy’s heroine, Natasha Rostova in War and Peace, as she turns to glance at Prince André and wins his heart with that one gesture.

Outside there was a stall selling the most exquisite lacquered boxes, one of which we found to be irresistible - it depicts a scene from the Firebird. This is a frequent occurrence with us and we have quite a collection of lacquered boxes from around the world.

From there we were dropped off close to a covered market specialising in local produce. Russian people quickly adopted the free market system and there were people buying everything from vegetables, familiar and unfamiliar to us, locally produced cheeses, hams, sausages, chops, steaks, chickens and eggs, honey and jams. All of it looked of good quality and the prices very reasonable. Free samples were offered all around the market, but what would we do with a Russian salami if we had purchased one?

Yaroslavl, to the visitor like me, gave the impression of being clean, lively and well cared for. Of course, this is only a casual impression after a short visit, but the public squares are well designed, the fountains all operate, and care appears to be paid to making the public areas pleasant places to congregate.

After the market it was back to the ship for lunch and casting off for the next cruise, to Kuzino.

One of the nice things about river cruising is that when the ship is under way there are activities laid on which you can take or leave as the fancy grabs you. After we departed Yaroslavl there was a traditional Russian teatime, which we somehow managed to miss, then a short time later there was a talk about Viking cruises, which routes and rivers are offered and how to obtain discounts on future bookings. We attended this one as we intend to do a couple more of these cruises

Before dinner Sasha, our Program Director, gave a brief rundown on the next day’s excursions and events.

At 7 the restaurant opened for dinner and an excellent meal rounded off the day. Following dinner Jackie and I went out on the upper deck as we were about to leave the Volga and sail onto the White Lake. The junction of the two is marked by a massive statue of Mother Volga, looking ahead with one arm outstretched.

Sunset that evening was spectacular and I managed to get some good shots as there was no wind and the lake’s surface was like a mirror.

After that we enjoyed a drink in the bar, chatting with fellow passengers before making our way back to our cabin for a welcome collapse into bed.

During breakfast the next morning we passed a wooden structure which my camera tells me was in Cherepovetskiy rayon in the province of Vologda. What was unusual about the building is that it looked like a replica of a Cavalry fort in western films, it even had a palisade of logs surrounding it. If a horde of mounted Sioux Indians had burst out of the surrounding forest and attacked it I shouldn’t have been in the least surprised.

Shortly afterwards we arrived in Kuzino. There was a tour of a nearby monastery, but Jackie and I cried off, Jackie because her hip was particularly painful and me because I was feeling a little weary and felt that a relaxing morning was just what we needed.

In the afternoon there was a lecture about Gorbachev and Perestroika. This was followed by a live cookery lesson which I attended in which Joachim, the head chef taught us how to prepare and cook a Russian specialty called Pelmeni, which is a cross between Chinese Dim Sum and Italian ravioli. They are delicious when served hot with sour cream and chives and I’m going to serve them the next time we have guests

Before dinner there was a Q and A session with the captain where we could ask him about the ship, navigating it, and its general running. Fascinating.

In the restaurant that night was a Russian Dinner, featuring local favourites. We both enjoyed them immensely and I made a memo to myself to do a bit of research once we were home and teach myself some of the recipes.

After dinner there was a vodka tasting in the Panorama Bar, which we both avoided. The reason is that when we were living in Germany our next door neighbour, an officer in the German army, invited us for dinner. As we chatted afterwards he kept serving us vodka and we kept drinking them. Fortunately, we only had a couple of yards to walk home because we were pretty well incapable of walking any further. The next morning we were so ill that both of us thought death would be preferable. I’d had hangovers before, but nothing as bad as this blinding headache combined with violent nausea. One of us would get up, see to the kids and when the pain became too much we’d go back to bed, wake up the other one, and collapse into a pool of misery. I don’t think either of us has ever felt so bad. It was about 5 p.m. before we began to feel halfway human. And that’s the reason that although we have respectively a whisky and g and t before dinner, we occasionally but rarely exceed that. I couldn’t go through such agony again.

The time for Jackie’s hip operation came around on Tuesday. I drove her to the hospital and was with her as she went through the admission process and was taken to her room. Once she was settled in and unpacked, I left her to the nurses and orderlies who were prepping her for the op the next morning at 7.30.

I’d asked her to call me when she was out of recovery and back in her room and the call came at 2. Her room was shared with a Luxembourg lady, so she and Jackie got along in German. She was amazed that she had such little pain, and pressed the trigger on the self-administered morphine drip just once. The surgeon told her that she would have a degree of pain to start with as the new joint settles down but this will gradually diminish. She was quite perky considering that she’d just undergone major surgery.

Today when I went in she had been up, surprising the rehab instructor that she walked as far as the bathroom and back. I’ve been in awe of her courage for quite some time now as she has refused to give in to the pain although, knowing her as well as I do I could read the toll it was taking on her on her face. The other occupant of her room went home today so Jackie was in splendid isolation.

In in that particular Luxembourg clinic the patient decides when she (or he) is ready to go home and Jackie is aiming to come home on Tuesday or Wednesday. We’ll have to see how that goes. The surgeon told her that normally the stay is 10 to 12 days. She has also been given a programme of rehabilitation at the specialised rehab centre here 3 times a week, starting shortly after she leaves hospital. They will send a taxi to pick her up from home and return her at the end of the session. It’s a great service here in Luxembourg.

Thank you, Keesha, that's just what we were planning. We're thinking of a trip to Beaune and enjoying some of that magnificent wine, and then trundling across France a short way to Lons-le-Saunier which has some really spectacular countryside.
Jackie came home on Wednesday last, and on Thursday she was making her way across the bedroom on her crutches when she banged her foot on the base of the crutch and stumbled. Luckily I was standing behind her and was able to grab her before she fell. However, she experienced excruciating pain just above the knee. We called the surgeon who told her to come in for an X-Ray to check up that no damage had been done. Both the new hip joint and her knee were perfect and the pain was from muscle damage. They gave her some painkillers and I brought her home. That pain seems to be fading now and she is making good progress, moving faster on the crutches and improving little by little each day.
I'll pass your good wishes on to her. Thanks again.

The following morning, after breakfast, there was a tour of the wheelhouse for those interested. As a one-time boat owner I was extremely curious so Jackie and I went along. This was a fascinating half hour as the first officer explained the instruments and controls. The radar was a sophisticated piece of kit (as you’d expect, naturally), but he also showed us how the bow thrusters were operated, It’s not just a question of steering the ship but navigating it, as well, for which there are GPS systems. Practically all of these controls and aids were duplicated in case of breakdown - should one system go down, the duplicate would take over.

After lunch we arrived at Kizhi Island where we took a walking tour to the little church and its surrounding hamlet. The church was built entirely of wood but as we approached closer it seemed to look a little odd. Before long it became obvious that the central onion dome was lifted up and supported on some beams. The community had decided that it was time to do some renovations so the church was getting a good workover.

The interior of the church was still in use with a multitude of paintings and the ever-present icons. All the Russian Orthodox churches we visited were homes to paintings in their hundreds, sometimes thousands. What the value of these treasures is I have no idea, and how they survived the Soviet persecution of priests, their churches and their congregations is a mystery to me even now.

After a goodly study of these paintings we walked off towards a woodcarver’s cottage. The woodcarver himself sat outside, working away at a piece of wood with an axe. It was the sharpest axe I have ever seen, and I was astonished as I watched him shave paper-thin slivers off the main piece. The other thing I noticed was that he was missing several fingers, so either he had made a few mistakes when he was learning his trade, or he lost them and took up woodcarving as a replacement profession.

We wandered around the area after that, enjoying the beauty of this island and taking the opportunity to give our cameras a workout. I was rather annoyed I had dropped my camera on the floor before we left and now I was finding that it would occasionally overexpose a shot, so I had to change over to manual. It’s been many a long year since I had to do that on a regular basis. My shots were a bit hit and miss for a while until I learned the procedure all over again.

At one spot we came to a group of Russians who were viewing the same sights we were, just about 20 minutes behind us. We had to wait a moment as we had arrived at opposite sides of a narrow gap, but they were, as always, good natured and friendly.

Shortly after the last of our group made it back on board the ship departed and after watching the process we went to our cabin to rest for a while before freshening up for dinner.

Following dinner we were invited to the Sky Bar, the largest on the ship for a show put on by the crew. I never cease to be amazed by the talent hidden away in people who do a mundane job by day. How else would we have known that the friendly young lady who cleaned and tidied our cabin was a pretty good classical pianist. I could hear in her first piece that she was nervous and a little hesitant but when she finished the applause we gave her seemed to banish her nerves and the second and third pieces were very accomplished.

The guest services manager brought the house down, simply by telling us some of the questions that passengers had asked him during his career. “Does the crew sleep on board?” he had once been asked. “No,” he is alleged to have replied, “we tow a submarine behind us and they sleep in that.” Another was, “Does the ship generate its own electricity?” His reply to that was that they have a long cable which they plug in at Moscow and feed out as they progress downstream. I confess that I love good comedy, and this man provided it, not just with his stories but his deadpan delivery.

We were in a pretty cheerful frame of mind when we made it to our stateroom and collapsed into bed.

Our next stopover was Mandrogy where those interested took a trip to a Russian banya, a form of sauna which is usually housed in a small cabin in the grounds of a wealthy person’s house. We chose not to go on that but instead went for a walk around Mandrogy itself, which was close to the ship’s mooring point.

There were some fascinating buildings in this little place, which also served as a form of theme park in the summer when tourists are more frequent. Looking for a Babuschka doll for our honorary granddaughter in California, we went into a kind of covered market that was full of gift shops. Babuschkas, which are those dolls that have another doll inside, and another doll inside that, and so on ad infinitum. We discovered they came in various sizes, with anything up to 21 dolls, one inside the other. The tiniest doll was scarcely 0,5 cm high. They also come in so many colours that in addition to size you have to decide on a colour as well.

Once we had purchased the one we thought most suitable for a 5 year old, we had a look round at other shops. The one that caught my eye was one that specialised in amber. Amber is the fossilised gum from pine trees and it is most abundant on the coasts of the Baltic states. One of the most fascinating things when looking at amber is the variety of items that were trapped on the surface of the gum when it was fresh and then become coated and buried as more gum slowly covers them. Some of the most common are seeds from various plants that the wind carries on to the sticky gum, while others are flying insects such as mosquitos or moths. I was quite familiar with these as amber is quite popular in Germany, but I was astonished to see large pieces of amber with whole frogs trapped inside, while others held lizards or other small animals.

We returned to the ship which cast off soon afterwards with our next stop being our last - St Petersburg.

That evening’s meal was the captain’s farewell dinner, which turned out to be a great evening with food that surpassed even the high standards we had become accustomed to on the Viking Ingvar.

It was a busy day that followed. The ship arrived in St Petersburg at 7.45 a.m. while we were in mid-breakfast and we were due to leave on an excursion to the Hermitage Museum. This museum is one of the world’s great art museums and is situated inside the Winter Palace. The Winter Palace itself is notorious for the Bloody Sunday massacre in 1905, when unarmed demonstrators were fired upon by soldiers of the Imperial Guard. Although Tsar Nicholas II was not in residence and did not give the order to fire he was nevertheless blamed and it changed the Russian peasants’ attitude to the Tsarist regime drastically, culminating in the revolution of 1917, the murder of the Tsar and his entire family of wife, four daughter and his son, the heir.

When we arrived at the entrance it overlooked the river and I found it perplexing that there was no large open square like the one depicted in paintings of the scene. I was to find out why the next day.

The palace itself is an outstandingly beautiful building painted outside in a shade of pale green and white with mouldings picked out in gold leaf. Inside, the foyer takes the breath away with its double white marble staircase, the Jordan Staircase, with black marble pillars at the top. The surrounding walls are in white with pediments and mouldings covered in gold leaf. On the walls are mounted mirrors which created the illusion of a much larger area.

The art treasures in this magnificent palace are incredible - da Vinci, Titian, Rembrandt, Caraveggio, Canaletto, Tiepola, Goya, Velasquez, Rubens, Renoir, Monet, Cezanne, van Gogh and more of history’s greatest artists than you could imagine. The Little Throne Room is a symphony of red and gold with its centrepiece being a surprisingly modest throne. The Tsarist symbol of a double-headed eagle decorates the throne itself, as well as the wall behind it.

Halls, ballrooms, reception rooms, the ultimate in sumptuousness, follow one after the other, in a staggering array.

How, I asked myself, did this magnificent complex escape the depredations of the Soviet regime, the brutalities of the revolutionary regime through to Stalin’s death? I’m surprised the treasures in this magnificent complex weren’t sold off, given the noted incompetence of the Soviet regime in running the Russian economy. But survive it all did and the palace should be on everybody’s bucket list.

In the basement area is an amazing display of sculptures, not just marbles, but great carvings in semi-precious stone - a giant carving of a vase in green malachite will have you staring in astonishment. There is a sculpture called The Crouching Boy by Michelangelo, which is rough as it was unfinished but Michelangelo’s chisel marks can still be seen in the marble.

When we returned to the ship at 3.30 p.m. dinner was being served, extremely early by the Ingvar’s standards, but there was an excursion to the Hermitage Theatre for a performance of Tchaikovsky’s ballet, Swan Lake. The Hermitage Theatre is part of the Winter Palace, set off to one side, and I subsequently learnt that the Winter Palace of Peter the Great stood on the site of the Theatre and that its remains were later discovered underneath the stage. The theatre itself was the favourite of Catherine the Great.

Luckily, we were among the first to enter the theatre that evening and we could sit where we chose as there were no reserved seats. I craftily ushered Jackie to vacant seats just on the left of the centre line.

The theatre is remarkably small and intimate, seating only 250 people, but it was intended only for the imperial family and a select few of the court nobles. It is sumptuously beautiful, making use of half-columns, red velvet seats, white mouldings and gold leaf. It also has something that few theatres can boast - every seat has a clear and uninterrupted view of the orchestra pit and the stage, thanks to the clever way the rows are staggered and sit above the row in front.

Before the ballet began the audience was asked politely not to film any part of the performance, but of course there are always those who feel the rules apply to everyone else but not themselves. As soon as the performance began I looked around and could see people all over the theatre filming with their phones. As a one-time amateur musician, producer of music halls and a Broadway musical in Luxembourg and writer of a musical’s libretto I feel strongly that artists should be paid fairly for their work so I get angry when I see people filming when they shouldn’t be because I know that often these illegitimate videos will be showing on the internet within a couple of days. Most of the guilty parties were Japanese, but not exclusively so. Somebody must have noted the guilty ones as during the first interval theatre staff descended on the them and warned them to stop.

When the ballet resumed the lesson seemed to have been learned, except by the American couple sitting directly in front of me. “Why not?” I thought, and leaned forward, saying to them, “They said no filming.” The man hastily began switching off his phone while the woman turned to give me a filthy stare. I stared back, pointing at the phone. They didn’t film any more of the performance.

The ballet itself was beautiful, even though the stage is quite small compared to that at the Bolshoi in Moscow, but it was cleverly choreographed to give the impression that the stage was much larger, leaving us with a feeling that we had witnessed something very special.

A busy, busy day with two outstanding excursions. The first was to the Catherine Palace, named because it was originally a summer palace for Empress Catherine the First. The second, at 1.45 p.m., was a comprehensive tour of St. Petersburg.

The Catherine Palace is situated in a district originally called Tsarsko Selo but has since been renamed Pushkin as the poet was born here. I have read, however, that both names seem to be used indiscriminately.

The Catherine Palace is approached from the side and once through the entrance gates, small and insignificant as they are, the full facade of the palace is in view, stretching away from you.. Each Tsarist palace seems to be more splendid than the previous one, and the Catherine Palace proved to be no exception. The face we were looking at is a symphony in light blue paint, white stone and gold leaf. A formal garden of unbelievable size, intricacy and beauty surrounds it.

The original structure built by Catherine I, was demolished on the orders of her daughter, Empress Elizabeth and replaced by the present building. When it was unveiled in 1756 the Russian aristocracy and the diplomatic corps at the opening were goggle eyed at the sheer opulence and luxury. No expense had been spared by a regime that revelled in opulence and luxury and the result has been astonishing visitors ever since.

The palace was heavily damaged during World War II but the restoration has been carried out with care and taste.The only chamber that could not be located was the Amber Room, an area where the walls were lined with panels of amber, mirrors and gold. It is generally believed that the Nazis removed it in 1945 and took it to Germany where it appears that it was irretrievably lost in the aftermath of the conflict. There are conflicting stories of what happened to it, but whatever the truth is, the Amber Room panels have never been located. However, President Putin ordered that it be recreated during the restoration and the result is stunning. Teams of researchers pored over old records, photos and reports to create designs for a replica which would be as closely identical to the original in every detail as possible. Once the redesign was complete more specialists were brought in to begin the task of recreating this amazing chamber.

Walking in will stop you dead in your tracks. The beautiful colour of amber is itself named amber because it’s unique. There is nothing else that has this beautifully translucent golden sheen and the panels which are filled with it and reflect the gold settings are so beautiful that they could bring tears to even the most hardened eye.

For me, it was unfortunate that photography in the Amber Room is strictly forbidden and strictly enforced, but I can understand as sale of pictures and cards helps to allay the cost of reproducing this national treasure.

Emerging into daylight once again I was blinking as daylight seemed so dull compared to the dazzling display I had just experienced.

I can remember little of the return drive to the ship, so overwhelming were my impressions of the Catherine Palace.

Once back in our stateroom I stuck my head under the tap, dried off and was ready for lunch.

The afternoon was taken up with a tour of St Petersburg. Although we had seen various parts of the city, this was the first real, organised view we had had of this most beautiful city. It's difficult to describe St Petersburg in a few words, but it has been called Russia's most beautiful city and its most Western.

The city has 42 islands, 80 canals and hundreds of bridges. It stands at the mouth of the River Neva where it runs into the Baltic Sea. Its most notable thoroughfare is the Nevsky Prospekt, a street that runs across the city for just under 3 miles. The inhabitants like to call Nevsky the heart and soul of the city, and the only other street which it can be likened to is the Champs Elysees.

Our tour took us on a ride along its whole length and it is indeed a captivating thoroughfare.

St Petersburg was extensively damaged during the Second World War, and Nevsky Prospect had its share, but many of the old buildings have been restored to their original form. There are also modern buildings as well and the combination of old and new gives a unique atmosphere. The Isaac Cathedral also stands on Nevsky and the restoration has been lovingly carried out.

On a bank of the Neva River stands the St Peter and St Paul Fortress, the original fortress built when the city was founded by Peter the Great. The fortress is home to a couple of museums covering the history of the city and is well worth a visit.

Near the fortress the cruiser Aurora is moored. This is a historic monument that was launched in 1900 and served in the Russo-Japanese war of 1904-05. She was the ship that fired “the shot that started the Bolshevik revolution,” when she fired a blank shot that signalled to the revolutionaries that they should storm the Winter Palace. During WW2 the cruiser’s guns were removed and used in the city’s defences. After the war the ship was carefully restored and is now a free museum.

The longer we spent passing through St Petersburg the more we came to admire the city. It has parks and gardens, elegant streets and narrow, old streets lined with 19th century buildings, cathedrals, fortresses, churches, memorial gardens, museums, theatres, cinemas, buildings with facades that will take your breath away, rivers, canals, bridges, palaces with formal gardens, lakes, ponds and flowerbeds. Every way we turned there was something different and fascinating to see.

We didn’t really have time to do the city justice, but there’s always the chance of a second visit, I thought to myself.

And on the way back to our ship we approached the Winter Palace from the other side and crossed the great square where the Bloody Sunday Massacre had taken place. That answered the question that had puzzled me.

And so the next morning we awoke to our penultimate day on our ship. We would be disembarking the next day but not returning home as we had taken the St Petersburg extension that was offered with our reservations.

Our morning was free but after breakfast Jackie adjourned to the Panorama bar for a read of her Kindle and a cup of tea while I went ashore to find a cashpoint machine to get enough cash to see us through the rest of today, tomorrow and the three days of our extension in a hotel.

I love wandering around places I’ve never visited before and St Petersburg certainly fitted that description. Also, I like to get in a walk most days when I can, and as a diabetic I find a 30 minute stretch of exercise is good for my BS levels. Another plus for a brisk daily walk is that there are things to look at as I move around. The thought of jogging never enters my head as it’s high impact and it’s not really good for the joints. Riding my exercise bike is too boring for words, so it’s a brisk walk for me. And I can do it in most weathers except for torrential rain.

So I wandered around the streets nearby the river, exploring a supermarket along the way to satisfy my curiosity about the kind of foodstuffs available. The simple answer, except for the ingredients for traditional Russian dishes such as borscht (beetroot) the simple answer is that they buy pretty much the same kind of foodstuffs as we do in Western Europe.

Back on board Jackie and I had our lunch aperitifs and after eating we got ready for our afternoon’s excursion - one I had been looking forward to ever since we left home - the Fabergé Museum.

To describe the Shuvalov Palace which houses the Fabergé collection as fabled is an understatement of the first order. The palace has been restored with the objective of housing the Faberge masterworks and such a superb job has been made of the restoration that it’s difficult to say which is the more beautiful - the Fabergé jewellery or the palace that houses it.

The tradition for the tsar of Russia to give his wife a jewelled egg at Easter, specially crafted by master jeweller Peter Carl Fabergè began with Tsar Alexander III and was continued by his son, Nicholas II. The museum itself contains not only many of the original eggs but examples of other items created by Faberge as gifts for the Tsars to present to relations, courtiers and other highly favoured individuals, gifts including cigarette cases in enamels, gold and jewels, diamond tiaras, chairs, drinking cups in silver or gold, rings, earrings, brooches, hatpins, hairpins, clocks, book covers and many, many other beautifully crafted items that I may have omitted to mention. If you’re thinking I’m exaggerating just Google the words “Fabergé museum exhibits” and the array that appears on your monitor will astonish you as much as the originals astonished me.

As our bus wended its way back to our ship I was struck by how drab reality is after viewing the genius of Peter Carl Fabergè.

Dinner that evening was to be our last on board the Viking Ingvar but it was not quiet or subdued in any way, just people circulating, chatting to newly made friends and acquaintances, exchanging addresses, home or email, or phone numbers.

Breakfast next morning was our last meal on board and afterwards to say a sad farewell to the lovely people who had worked so hard to serve our meals and wines. They were such friendly, obliging, good natured people that we had become friends with them and it was with regret that we took our leave. I was also conscientious about making a decent sized donation into the tip fund which is divided up among the staff - a fairer system as those who do not come into contact with the passengers also share in the kitty.

Then it was heading ashore for the bus which would take us into St Petersburg for our extension of three nights in a hotel. We had been informed before our departure that our hotel had been changed with no reason given. We learned later that there was a big international convention being held at the same time and hotel rooms were as scarce as hens’ teeth.

Our suitcases had already been taken out on to the quayside and all we had to do was make sure that our cases had been loaded onto the correct bus. After that it was a drive across St Petersburg to our hotel, the Solo Sokos Vasilievsky.

We pulled up outside the hotel and there was silence on the bus. There were 12 of us and nobody said a word. The exterior of the hotel was not an inviting prospect, looking more like a Stalinist bunker than the first class hotel we had been promised. We filed off the bus and made our way into the lobby. The first impression did not lift the spirits as the decor was mostly dark brown wood. We all looked around, then at each other. I could see discontent written on each face.

The hotel for our extension in Moscow had been the Radisson Royal, a palatial, luxurious establishment where it appeared that no expense had been spared in renovating a building which had been one of a special number constructed on Stalin’s orders after WW2 (they were generally known as Stalin’s skyscrapers) and was used to house Communist Party faithful as well as artists and intellectuals who were in favour. With the collapse of Communism the building had been taken over by the Radisson group and updated and refurbished to the highest standards. Walking through the front doors left guests impressed and somewhat starstruck. It was the kind of place you expected film stars from Hollywood’s golden age to frequent.

We looked at our surroundings and the first thing that struck me was why an interior decorator, given the task of creating a hotel’s public areas, think that covering the interior in dark brown wood and peculiar bronze sculptures would lighten anyone’s mood. It was depressing. The kind of place where Oliver Twist would creep hesitatingly up to the Mr Bumble the Beadle and say, “Please sir, I want some more.”

We put our heads together and the most vocal member of the group pulled out his phone and called our cruise company. He told them exactly what he thought of the hotel as opposed to what we were promised.

The hotel had been described as a superior first class hotel within an easy walk to the town centre. The walk turned out to be 45 minutes. After firmly telling the company what he thought of this hotel in comparison to the Moscow Radisson for which we had paid the same price, he was told that the complaints manager would call him back and he hung up.

By this time Jackie was developing excruciating pain in her right leg so I led her over to an armchair near the bar where she could take the stress off the leg.

We all, individually, took to calling the tour company, just to let them know this wasn’t the case of one disgruntled client but a whole bunch of us.

We had arrived too early to be checked in so the rooms weren’t ready, necessitating a wait in the public areas.

I sat next to Jackie and began contemplating the sculpture facing us. It looked like an elderly couple committing an obscene act. Doubting my eyesight’s interpretation I got up and went over to have a look. The reality was more mundane. The piece was called “The Skaters” and consisted of an elderly lady bending over as she skated along with an elderly man close behind her in the same posture. I gave myself a good talking to, admonishing myself not to jump to questionable conclusions.

As lunchtime approached we decanted ourselves into the restaurant, also dismally decorated in dark brown - walls, tables, counters. We had a drink while perusing the menus, finally deciding that we couldn’t visit Russia without at least once trying the Beef Stroganoff. The service wasn’t outstanding, but the Stroganoff was pretty good.

Finally, our room was ready and we took the lift to our floor. The corridors looked tired and slightly worn but clean while our room was clean and somewhat fresher. We relaxed for a while, allowing time for the pain in Jackie’s leg to subside. In an hour or so she took a painkiller and we set off for a walk to have a look at our surroundings.

Before we left the lobby I took a map of the area, so we turned left as we came out of the hotel and shortly found ourselves looking at a river and some bridges. The bridge was fairly long and we didn’t fancy crossing it without knowing if there was something worthwhile to see at the other end. As a result we walked up and down to do a bit of window shopping in the few shops we could find. We were also keeping an eye out for any suitable restaurants for dinner that evening, but they also seemed to be thin on the ground. By this time I could see that Jackie was in considerable pain. She was doing her best to pretend that everything was fine but I could see by her face that she needed a couple of hours with her leg raised. We headed back to the hotel where she went up to our room while I continued on past the hotel to see if there were any suitable places for dinner that evening. This time I was in luck: less than a hundred yards from the hotel I came upon a small restaurant. The menu was outside, written in Russian and English, and had a nice range of dishes. I looked through the window to see a room lower than the pavement where I stood, but nicely set out with clean tablecloths, sparkling glass and cutlery and a bright interior. A definite possibility, I told myself, and resumed my walk.

I came across another restaurant further on, but neither the menu nor the interior looked as inviting as the first one, so I returned to the hotel, took my shoes off and reclined with my Kindle while Jackie went through the TV programmes with little luck and soon turned her attention to her Kindle.

At the magic hour we freshened up and made the short stroll to the restaurant. For a while we were the only customers, so we were greeted with a big friendly welcome and were soon ensconced with menus and drinks. We chose our meal, gave our order to the only waiter and had just sat back with our drinks when several more couples from our group came in.

It was just a small restaurant and it was beginning to fill up fast with most of the diners coming from our group. We exchanged greetings, enjoyed our drinks and shared our impressions of the hotel - universally disappointing it turned out.

Our meal arrived and Jackie and I were both surprised at how good it was, and judging by the reactions of the others in our group they thought so as well. At least one thing had turned out not to be a disappointment.

Breakfast the following day was nothing special, with plenty of local specialities which I didn’t find particularly tempting. First thing in the morning is not the best time to be faced with raw marinated herring, never one of my favourite dishes, so I had to sort out the dishes I found to be edible and low carb. I stuck to eggs, ham and the kind of bread I’ve found not to have too violent effect upon my BS levels.

After breakfast we had booked a cruise on the waterways to see another side of St Petersburg, but the water levels were too high for our tour boat to get under the bridges on the canals so we were limited to the rivers. St Petersburg’s main watercourse is the Neva River, wide, deep and, on the day we were there, choppy due to the windy weather.

It was fascinating to view many of the sites we had visited by coach from a different perspective. We could also study the variety of bridges and their designs up close as we approached, many of them being of classical design adorned with statuary, columns or rails.

Our boat bobbed about in the chop, making it difficult to get photos that wouldn’t need straightening up in Photoshop.

The St Peter and Paul Fortress looked very different from the water as did the Hermitage Museum and any number of parks and palaces that we had driven past but now could study better with the slower progress of the boat.

We disembarked close to the Fabergé Museum where we had a light lunch before taking a taxi back to the hotel to pack for our departure the following morning. For dinner that evening we returned to the delightful little restaurant where we had eaten the previous evening. This time we were joined by another couple from the same group and we had another wonderful meal.

After we flew home the following day I pondered on our impressions of Russia. As I’ve said before, all my life up to the early 1990s Russia was the world’s leading Marxist state and the impression given to the outside world was of a closed society, suspicious of the outside world and brutal to its own citizens. Finding the Russian people to be friendly, considerate, polite, open and welcoming, anxious to speak English to us somehow surprised us, even though the Soviet Union had vanished almost 15 years previously. Would we return? Yes, absolutely. After all, taking the Trans-Siberian Railyway from Moscow to Vladistock is still on our bucket list.
And one pleasant surprise awaited us. Less than a week after our return Viking repaid the entire sum for our St Petersburg extension. We immediately applied it to another cruise with them, from Amsterdam to Budapest. There are a lot of stretches of the Rhine that we haven't seen, so that's our plan for next May.

Today, just before lunch, a van from our town hall pulled up outside. Jackie and I were just leaving for lunch at our local Indian restaurant and Jackie was standing outside the front door. A man climbed out of the van and walked up our front path carrying two brown envelopes. With a broad smile he gave the envelopes to Jackie, said Au revoir, and drove off. Mystified, Jackie brought the envelopes inside where I was just putting on my coat. I opened the envelope addressed to me and scanned the contents quickly. I turned to Jackie and said, "I think we've become Luxembourg citizens." She quickly opened her envelope and saw the same letter.
So, by ministerial decree of 10 November 2017, we are naturalized citizens of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. What a relief after the horror stories attached to Brexit! Whatever the ghastly May woman and her unlovely crew does to the rest of Britain, we won't be affected by it.
Jackie and I are no longer among her bargaining chips.