St. Petersburg

It was a jolly good gig enjoyed by many in the worryingly crumbling city of St. Petersburg where I can honestly say I've never seen such filthy cars - all of them covered in a thick layer of light brown dust. Come to think of it, I don't think we passed a single car wash on our excessively long journey from the hotel to the venue so perhaps the two phenomena are related. After the show we boarded the overnight train to Moscow, a most agreeable mode of transport unless you're the poor sods in the compartment next to the vodka-fuelled big sweaty man's singing competition which regretably I missed by retiring to my cabin early like a good guitar tech. Les has been taking full advantage of the legendary Russian hospitality by having Kellog's Vodka Flakes for breakfast (part of your five a day over here) making for some incredibly artful swearing at all sorts of odd hours, though I must say there have been far too many utterances regarding "hairy arses" and suchlike for my sensitive ears. He also has a new and novel means of finding his way home should he become lost.

About to have dinner in the excellent Tochka club in Moscow. Might go for the ribeye steak.