The big news of the weekend was that Max and Inna are engaged. Now what does a fearless diarist write here? Do I write the truth and say that Max popped the question six months ago and it's taken her this long to say yes, or do I go for the traditional - we're so pleased for the two of them.
Actually, both are true. I'm not quite sure if it's as long as six months (Max says three), but she has taken some time to deliver the 'yes' that Max wanted to hear. I know that he was very disappointed in the first instance but I admire them both for the way they've handled it. Inna for not taking the easy option of saying yes when she clearly wasn't sure that an engagement and a wedding, rather than a relationship, was what she wanted and Max for the way he's handled his disappointment, properly valued what they have together and not thrown his toys out of the pram.
Inna is very sensible, smart and hard-working. They should make a very good team. I used to tease all the boys that they should find a nice girl from the village; that way I wouldn't have to be mithered with running their girlfriends home - they could walk. I certainly didn't think that Max would end up marrying a girl from Russia - a Muscovite. Adding some Russian-Jewish blood will certainly make the family tree a bit more interesting.
Inna came to the UK, to Leicester, when she was about 10. She had no English when she arrived (except a schoolgirl smattering) and yet was able to get good exam results, a good degree from a first division university and land a job with the Audit Commission, keeping tabs on the British government. That's not a bad achievement. I haven't asked her father Mikhail about why they left Russia, but I guess that when Mikhail Gorbachev came to power and began the liberalisation process that was to lead to the break-up of the USSR, he saw his chance was coming and the further relaxation of contraints by Boris Yeltsin allowed him and his family to leave and build a better life.
So we have an engagement to celebrate and everyone is getting excited about buying a hat.
That was the good news of the weekend, but I spent the whole of it worrying about my missing wallet. I often take my wallet out of my pocket or bag and pop it in the desk drawer and on Friday I'd done that, but then forgotten to pick it up when I left. I realised when I got off the train at Peterborough, but wasn't sure whether I'd had my pocket picked, dropped it on the train or left it at work. I was pretty sure that it was the latter and it's such a chore to cancel all your cards and get new ones, that I decided to take a chance. You'll understand the feeling of relief this morning when I opened my drawer and there it was!
Sam has been busy organising the ski holiday and he seems to enjoy that task - I'm not sure why because it would seem such a chore to me. Anyway, he's booked a chalet in a French village called Bourg-Saint-Maurice, close to Les Arc, organised ferry crossing and ski lessons (for me) - all over the internet.
It looks good and I'm getting quite excited. I hope I do better than I did last time. Sam has put me in Group 1 - they are streamed 0-5 and 0 is for complete beginners, so my plan is to pretend I've only had a couple of lessons and then I'll look like a quick learner. It could all go badly wrong! Also the ski lessons are in the afternoon, which is less stressful. Last year, they started at 9am and it was always a rush to get breakfast and be down in time. The chalet maid had a busy morning sorting out the breakfast and it always seemed to be my packed lunch she made last.
The chalet is in a non-ski village, but there is a furnicular railway in the centre which takes you up to Les Arc. That's quite nice because ski resorts, especially the new, popular and more affordable ones, aren't always the nicest places. Hopefully, prices in Bourg will be more reasonable than in the resorts proper. Sam is hoping to have a few months skiing and travelling when he's finally qualified as a GP and has been able to save up some cash. I think he has his eye on this place as a likely long-term let.
So we're off in just over a week's time - early ferry from Dover and then an eight-hour drive. It's a long time, but it's nicer than flying, which is an altogether degrading and miserable experience these days. Chris at work has a friend who has just bought a chalet near Chamonix and they are off there just before Christmas. If it's good I might ask him if we could get a deal on it.
Pauline and Chris came round for supper on Saturday night. It's just a week after poor old Gremmie died and I think Pauline (and even Chris) is missing her. It's a terrible feeling not having a dog around. When Jack had to be put down I was forever going to pat his head and it wasn't there. We got Gravel only a few weeks later and he's even more 'pattable' than Jack was.
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