Gateway to the fortress-first sight of my new Russian home.I had to negotiate three steel doors, including this one and an extremely foul smelling lift to gain the comparative security and homeliness of my hostess' apartment on the 6th floor.
At least I had a room to myself whilst my landlady shared a room with her grown up crippled son and seemed to spend most of most days in her kitchen, with windows that never semed to open, following the soaps on TV and reading her bible.Shower water was plentiful and hot until communal boiler repairs-a summer ritual-turned all hot water off and one always had to remember not to clean ones teeth in tap water containing giardia and heavy metals ( average male life expectancy under 60??)
Eventually I learned not to whistle indoors as Rennetta ( after screeches of horror) assured me that this would destroy her wealth. But hugs were plentiful and she even held my hand ( like a little boy)when crossing the road on my first evening in town. Strange-I think I am older than her.She was always fiercely protective of my welfare, horrified that I should be travelling across Siberia by train on my own. Did I get hugged when I returned in one piece and there were heart rending tears on the night I left to return to London.She spoke regularly at night to a friend who had gone to live with her daughter in Sydney-so she knew all too well what sort of more pampered world I was returning to.I felt very privileged to have shared her home and to enjoy an Anglo/Australian lifestyle and freedoms
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