... it's d-day -10. unwisely, i feel like one of those 15th century pioneers, vespucci or magalhaes, putting together my crews and my ships. it's the little details that fuss my head, and i start to imagine forgetting the kegs of lemons and how i'll die of scurvy in some soviet-style breeze-blocked hospital ward with bowed legs and yellow skin, the dictionary just out of reach of my vitamin-deficient fingers, a nurse like julie christie imploring me 'что вы хотите?', while an orthodox priest with a beard like a small grey waterfall rocks back and forwards, muttering deprecations about my unwillingness to die before mass.
of course, when i say lemons, i mean travel plugs, but, the way i see it, not being able to juice up my laptop in siberia is pretty much like dying of scurvy 1000 miles from land anyway. and then there's the clothes. if you've seen 'the day after tomorrow' then you'll know what i'm expecting – specifically, the bit where the cold from space gets sucked to earth and everybody dies with the same disbelieving expression, as if to say 'hey pete, get this - the blood in my veins has actually frozen'. naturally, the current glut of swimming trunks and hawaiian shirts in the shops will fully equip me to deal with this weather. anyhow, i have two hats now – one that makes me look like noddy, and one that makes me look like the last stevedore to get picked for work after the fat kid with snot on his lip and the one-armed drunk who don't see so well afore noon.
actually, i look quite the visual treat at the moment. for some reason, i got it into my head that in order to perfect my russian accent and create that kind of 'zhh' tone, i should move my lips as little as possible. the result is that i look like i've had a stroke and lost control of my facial muscles. i suspect i could make a killing if i patented this technique as a homeopathic alternative to botox. certainly, it reduces the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles and i can imagine jennifer aniston in the commercial going '…and now the science bit', followed by images of beautiful women mouthing 'kalashnikov' to concerned-looking men dressed in immaculate white coats and carrying clipboards. but i digress.
