Valentine's Day? Was that what it was?

As you may have noticed in yesterday's post, the Potski Familiski finally has access to a car in Moscow. This is most definitely a Good Thing, and has freed us up from the tyranny of the waiting for the Taxi that Never Comes, a frequent occurrence if you live off the beaten track in Moscow. Since we've moved to our new home we've heard the 'he has a flat tire' excuse, the 'he took the wrong road and couldn't get through the forest from there' excuse, the 'he went on the wrong road and got stuck in a traffic jam' excuse, and the best one so far, 'he doesn't come from Moscow so didn't know how to get to you' excuse (which does rather beg the question, why call yourself a taxi driver?).

Now however, we are free to hop in the car at any opportunity and be late because of our own stupid misdirections rather than someone else's. This weekend we took full advantage of that, trying as usual to fit in far more than we had time for, and on Saturday drove into the centre of town to try and find a few hard to get comestibles (wrapping paper, a birthday card, and eye-make-up remover. Didn't think they were hard to get, did you? Let's just say I'll be stocking up on my forthcoming trip to the UK...).

We found ourselves in a smart department store on the Novy Arbat and whilst I was making a purchase, the Boys were approached by 2 handsome young men wearing short (VERY short) Roman tunics, each bearing a tray of heart-shaped biscuits. Of course my sons took 2 each (oh, the shame; I never feed them, you know), and munched away as I made my purchase. Or rather, I tried to. In many Russian department stores they still operate the old Soviet-style system, as I found out when I tried to pay.

It works as follows; you go to the cosmetics counter. You select your eye-make-up remover. You try to pay. There follows a confusing pantomime where the lady behind the counter explains that you can't pay here, you have to pay over there at the till. She puts the product in a bag anyway, which you try to pick up. Then there is further confusion and a bit of tussling when she hands you a ticket, but not the bag or the product. Then your husband comes to the rescue whilst you wonder which parallel universe you are in, and he takes the ticket over to the till on the other side of the store, pays, comes back with the reciept, and you are finally handed what you came to buy. Why you can't take the product to the till I don't know (it's not as if these places aren't security guarded to the hilt), but that's how it's done. Now you know, should you ever find yourself short of eye-make-up remover in the former Soviet Union...

In any case, the Boys were happily eating their biscuits, as was Husband. I was, shall we say, enjoying the view of the young men in their tunics. And then Husband and I had the following conversation...

Him: "So, now you know where to come for cosmetics, at any rate."

Me: "Yes..."

Him: "And if you fancy a free biscuit you know where to come for that too."

Me: "Well, only until tomorrow, though."

Him: "What do you mean?"

Me: "Well, don't you think that two young men in toga's offering free heart-shaped biscuits might have something to do with it's being Valentine's Day tomorrow?"

Him: "Aaaah."

Needless to say, in the Potski household there was no further mention of February 14th's being a significant date...