I’m not complaining, because I have a comfortable life, but it can get a little repetitive sometimes. Put the washing in the machine, take the washing out. Iron lots of shirts (yawn), accidentally drop iron on kitchen floor to get a few days respite from shirts until I buy another. Go to Tesco. Whoopee. Sometimes daringly liven it up a bit by shopping at a.n.other supermarket. Pilates and pooch walks. All gets a bit samey. Go to Tesco (again). Oh dear! BUT NOT TOMORROW! Tomorrow I am going to Russia where there will be no supermarkets or ironing boards waiting for me. Yes, Moscow, here we come. It was -31 degrees there earlier this week, but I am very keen to escape the chains of domesticity for a few days, even if my blood is going to freeze into some sort of gory granita in the process. I am diving into cupboards and digging out dusty ski leggings and thermal vests. And that fur hat that Husband bought me years ago and I’ve never worn, is coming with me even though it makes me look like a Royal Scots Dragoon Guard. My tummy is half gurgling with excitement, half with fear-of-flying nerves. If I had a New Year’s Resolution at all this year, it was to say “yes” more. And so, when this opportunity to piggyback the old man’s business trip came up, I did not mutter anything about “who’s going to look after the dogs/son/house” or “shame, I’d love to join you but I have a bikini wax booked for next Tuesday” or that old chestnut “can we afford it?”. I didn’t even let the 22-page long visa application with it’s intrusive questions put me off. No, I just said “da”. “Definitely da”. So I’m delighted to report that it’s dasvidania Tesco and hello Mosco (sic).