Despatch Five

The story so far:
Tatiana is employed by a Oleg, a Russian oligarch exiled at sea on his yacht the Flying Dutchman (Letushchy Golandets, Letgo for short). Her job is to brief him on all aspects of British life pending his arrival in London. Oleg and his wife Natalya (Natasha) have a son Nicholas (Kolya)who is down for Eton. Tatiana has a bodyguard Alexander (Sasha) with whom she recently had to flee to a safe house in a remote part of Scotland. Due to difficulties with the bank, which has frozen Oleg’s account, Tatiana has had to let the basement of her house in London and Sasha has got a job as a roadie until Christmas with a touring theatre company...

Dear Olly

From Her Safe House in Scotland

Dear Olly, Well, I can report a great success. Sasha bagged one of the wild sheep which roam these hills, and a tasty red squirrel! So we will not starve. It is much wetter and cooler up here compared to London. We are on more or less the same line of latitude as Kolomna. The great new buzz up here concerns windfarms and renewable energy. The Scots have long begrudged the exploitation in the last century of their North Sea gas and oil fields by British companies. Now there is talk of making Scotland into the Saudi Arabia of the northern hemisphere. Most of the wind in Europe is found up here, apparently. Would you like me to make further inquiries? Mmm That squirrel smells delicious. Sasha is grilling it over the fire.

The copyright and all other rights in this blog and the characters featured in it belong to Tatiana Larin-Gremin, and they may not be copied, adapted or otherwise used without her agreement.

Despatch Four

The story so far:
Tatiana is employed by a Oleg, a Russian oligarch exiled at sea on his yacht the Flying Dutchman (Letushchy Golandets, Letgo for short). Her job is to brief him on all aspects of British life pending his arrival in London. Oleg and his wife Natalya (Natasha) have a son Nicholas (Kolya)who is down for Eton. Tatiana has a bodyguard Alexander (Sasha) with whom she recently had to flee to a safe house in a remote part of Scotland. Due to difficulties with the bank, which has frozen Oleg’s account, Tatiana has had to let the basement of her house in London and Sasha has got a job as a roadie until Christmas with a touring theatre company...

Dear Olly, Thank you so much for sending the apples from your estate in Tula, or was it Kolomna?. They are much tastier than the ones sold in the supermarkets here. I cut one up immediately and floated a piece in my tea, the way Uncle Vanya used to, sitting in the garden at his dacha during those golden autumn afternoons. The English put milk in their tea which spoils the flavour in my view. There is a difference of opinion about whether to put the milk in first or last. There is some social significance in this preference. I will elaborate when I have had time to study this phenomenon more closely. Did you know that the English (or British as G. Brown prefers to call them) are all descended from a Spanish tribe? This is according to a recent analysis of their DNA. It explains why, alone in the world, the Spanish and the English have a ‘th’ sound in their language. Tho there.

Dear Oleg Ivanovich

How was I to know that there was something concealed in one of the apples? When your man called to collect it, whatever it was, it turned out to have been in the very one I had cut up and put in my tea. I thought that little black spot was a maggot egg.

Yours sincerely,

Tatiana Larin-Gremin

Olya! Olyusha! What do you mean, it wasn’t your man? I must say, I did think he was a bit rude, barging past me in the entrance hall and throwing all the apples out of the bowl and bashing them to bits with a hammer.

Dear Ol, I do not want to sound ungrateful, but I must stress that when I agreed to be your eyes and ears in London, I had no intention of getting mixed up in your business affairs, other than briefing you on the English and keeping a lookout for investment opportunities. Thank you, anyway, for your man Sasha, who got here shortly after the False Dimitri. He has now taken up residence in the basement. Must I cancel my visit to Scotland, or can I take him with me?

A Safe House in Scotland

Well, this is rather like being at home. We are in a dacha surrounded by conifers. Sasha has pitched his tent somewhere in the forest, and is going to try and shoot something for supper with his AK49. He says we are to lie low here for a few days until the apple affair (code named Snow White) has been sorted out in London. Please remember the house is rented and we will have to pay for any damage eg bloodstains or broken furniture.

The copyright and all other rights in this blog and the characters featured in it belong to Tatiana Larin-Gremin, and they may not be copied, adapted or otherwise used without her agreement.

Despatch Three

The story so far:
Tatiana is employed by a Oleg, a Russian oligarch exiled at sea on his yacht the Flying Dutchman (Letushchy Golandets, Letgo for short). Her job is to brief him on all aspects of British life pending his arrival in London. Oleg and his wife Natalya (Natasha) have a son Nicholas (Kolya)who is down for Eton. Tatiana has a bodyguard Alexander (Sasha) with whom she recently had to flee to a safe house in a remote part of Scotland. Due to difficulties with the bank, which has frozen Oleg’s account, Tatiana has had to let the basement of her house in London and Sasha has got a job as a roadie until Christmas with a touring theatre company...

Dear Olly

Sundays in this part of London are quiet, except for a noisy collection of bottles from the many nearby nightclubs and restaurants at 3.0am. If you and Natasha decide to have a place in London, I suggest you buy up one of the garden squares (you could get one for about $300 million) –there is plenty of room for staff in the houses down each side, and you could knock down the row along the far end, away from the main road, for a mansion, perhaps in the style of J. Nash or F. B. Rastrelli. And ban the refuse collection. The fashionable Kings Road itself was originally a private road, built by Prince Charles’s (q.v. – the biscuit maker) forebear and namesake, King Charles II. London roads are very narrow compared to ours. (No doubt the sea air is making your brain seethe and I know I am only one of your correspondents around the world so forgive me if my notes are necessarily parochial.) Do you have any books in English on board apart from Fr. Mitrofan’s Complete Works of P.G. Wodehouse I wonder? Let me know if you would like me to compile a list of contemporary English literature. Meanwhile, for your edification I recommend the new English movie The Queen, starring H. Mirren directed by S. Frears. There is a very good topical joke in an otherwise quite serious story set in 1997, at the time of the death of Princess Diana Spencer (q.v. - M&S). At a busy moment, one of Prime Minister Tony Blair’s aides answers a telephone and says ‘It’s Gordon’ to which T. Blair replies ‘Tell him to hang on’. The audience appreciates this very much, since Gordon (Brown) has been waiting for some years to take over from Blair as Prime Minister. These things are arranged differently chez nous, n’est ce pas? I have often wondered what it is they put in the Kremlin water when it is time for a change. It might be worth finding out and getting the formula to G. Brown. He would be grateful, and might appoint you to the House of Lords. Dear Olly, I see that life expectancy for Russian males is 58. Please be careful and do not go too near the rail. More soon – tomorrow I will be continuing my researches in Scotland.

Yours truly,

Tanya

The copyright and all other rights in this blog and the characters featured in it belong to Tatiana Larin-Gremin, and they may not be copied, adapted or otherwise used without her agreement.

Despatch Two

The story so far:
Tatiana is employed by a Oleg, a Russian oligarch exiled at sea on his yacht the Flying Dutchman (Letushchy Golandets, Letgo for short). Her job is to brief him on all aspects of British life pending his arrival in London. Oleg and his wife Natalya (Natasha) have a son Nicholas (Kolya)who is down for Eton. Tatiana has a bodyguard Alexander (Sasha) with whom she recently had to flee to a safe house in a remote part of Scotland. Due to difficulties with the bank, which has frozen Oleg’s account, Tatiana has had to let the basement of her house in London and Sasha has got a job as a roadie until Christmas with a touring theatre company...

Dear Olly, The Prince Charles I mentioned in my last despatch is the heir to the English throne (or, as the English would say, the British throne). He is the Prince of Wales, that part of England to the far west not the sea mammal. He makes biscuits on his farm in Gloucestershire. Perhaps he is unhinged with grief at the death of his first wife. But he has recently remarried a cheerful looking person, his former housekeeper, who wore a very Russian style headdress at their wedding, a sheaf of corn. He is a devout Orthodox and often visits Mount Athos on the quiet so Fr Mitrofan may have heard his confession before you whisked him off on your little sabbatical. I have been looking round the place for safe investments, and wonder whether you would consider buying a body known as the Forestry Commission ? This organisation owns most of the timber in Britain. My personal trainer says that Gordon Brown will be putting it up for sale when he succeeds Tony Blair. The record of a ship’s movements and activities is called the log, by the way. My English teacher and I did a whole lesson on wood and wood-related expressions. On board ship, one may use ‘Shiver me timbers’ as an ejaculation. You will need to get to grips with the national characteristics of the various peoples inhabiting these islands before you start negotiating here. The Scots have what is known as a chip on their shoulder. A chip is a small piece of wood. The Welsh are very devious, and sometimes speak a different language altogether from other English people. We will leave the Irish alone for the time being, because they are too complicated. Mr Patel in the corner shop knows a lot about all these matters because he has been selling newspapers for 40 years. It might be worth putting him on the strength – this is a new idiom I learned from the ‘Employment and Office Practice’ chapter of my book English for Business. It means putting him on the payroll. In the last century, this move would have been part of something called the Great Game, if Mr Patel had been from India whereas in fact he came here from East Africa. On church matters, I am afraid to say that the schism in the Russian Orthodox Cathedral in London remains unbridged. There is a standoff between those who wish to shelter under the wing of the Moscow Patriarch and those (many of them English) who seek the protection of the Ecumenical Patriarch in Constantinople. You are better off circling the globe with Fr Mitrofan, celebrating the liturgy in deep waters. By the way, I have received a pre-printed postcard from the Provost of Eton. It thanks you for your letter and in ink is added underneath ‘How much?’. So there you are ! ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained’ as the chapter on Commerce says! Would you still like me to sound out Harrow in case the price for Eton is unreasonable?

Yours aye (Scottish way of signing off)

Tatiana L-G

The copyright and all other rights in this blog and the characters featured in it belong to Tatiana Larin-Gremin, and they may not be copied, adapted or otherwise used without her agreement.

Despatch One

Dear Olly - Tatiana’s despatches.

Olly, a Russian oligarch, has sent Tatiana to London for a year to live discreetly undercover, in order to collect information which will enable her to coach him in English and English manners before he returns to take his rightful place in society. Tatiana is also on the lookout for investments to soak up her employer’s unceasing Niagara-like cascade of cash. Tatiana’s employer, meanwhile, is circling the globe in one of his enormous private yachts; at present he is aboard the Letushchy Golandets, Let Go for short (in English, the Flying Dutchman).

Despatch One: Dear Olly, London is basking in an Indian summer, just like we have in Moscow. I hope the weather is pleasant where you are. The place you found me to stay in London is excellent. There are English people of all ages living here, including one member of the House of Lords which may come in handy for you when you feel ready to come ashore. As instructed, I am collecting idioms and slang which you can learn while you are sitting in your banya. I have found a good honest woman to give me English language lessons one to one. There is a neat English idiom for moving house, which is apt for you in the circumstances. If you were in London now, you could apparently turn to your neighbour at dinner or at your club and say: ‘I’ve had to up sticks’. Sticks can also mean furniture. A propos: a nouveau riche can be described as ‘a man who has to buy his own furniture’. In your case, a man who buys up furniture factories more like. An elderly person can also be called ‘an old stick’. Talking of old sticks, try running some of these past Father Mitrofan, who I know is familiar with the works of P.G. Wodehouse, when you next go to confession. I hope his seasickness has improved because I know how much you and Natasha depend on him for your devotions. By the way, there are pre-schism English saints which you can venerate quite safely when you come to London. I have this on authority. They are manifold, and include St Alban (who was actually a Roman), St Dunstan, patron saint of the blind and St Clement who is aptly depicted with an anchor. If you like, I can inquire about commissioning an icon artist to make you a set, like Prince Charles has in his chapel at his country estate. The local shops and restaurants are not run by English people, by the way. The Poles are everywhere, and as rude as ever. They are not nature’s restaurateurs, unlike the Italians. I have also engaged a cook who has undertaken to teach me how to cook English dishes, such as Shepherd’s Pie, made with minced meat and potatoes, and something called Baby’s Leg, a seasonal dessert delicacy made from jam and a pastry made from the fat from a cow’s stomach lining. This is apparently enjoyed at exclusive English private schools, so will be handy for little Kolya if your plan to buy Eton college comes to fruition. I have not heard back yet from the Head Master to whom I wrote with your offer. Shall I try Harrow instead? I must run – quite literally, in fact, because my personal trainer has arrived. She trains many English women of a certain age in many walks of life, so I am confident that the investment in her time will be well repaid. By the way, there is a shop in this street called Marx and Spencer, named playfully I presume after the father of the Bolshevik Revolution and the late Princess of Wales – an amusing contraposition that the English enjoy in their pub names as well (the Ferret and Trouser Leg, the Slug and Lettuce etc).

Yours truly

Tatiana Larin-Gremin

Ps My trainer says the Head master of Eton is called the Provost. Your money is not being wasted!

The copyright and all other rights in this blog and the characters featured in it belong to Tatiana Larin-Gremin, and they may not be copied, adapted or otherwise used without her agreement.