When the rain comes...

When the rain comes we run & hide our heads or so the lyrical genius of John Lennon goes. Peaked out the window a little hungover & barely even contemplated going out to have to hide my head. It was chucking it down. The thought of getting soaked again didn't really appeal. Plenty of recovering & diary (should the recovery happen) Thankfully there was ample food in to tide us over so another reason for going out was avoided. The slight issue however was something of a quart in a pint pot situation - if no boxes are ticked today then loads needs to be done on our final day. Tried in vain to find indoor attractions that didn't involve art or likely Russian explanation (museums) Post lunch the rain seemed to have eased so a mild soaking was deemed acceptable & the queue for St Basil's could possibly be bearable. Decided to chance it. Got into town to find the police & army out in force - Red square was cordoned off & checks were in place - there was a big political protest & they weren't getting into Red Square. It was a battle for anyone to get in. Elsewhere the govt had been getting people to arrange festivals for the weekend to distract the youth from political dissent. All very sneeky. Anyway got into St Basils easily enough. From the outside it looks like the cathedral in St Petersburg. Internally it is completely different - a warren of little chapels, corridors and narrow staircases. A choir struck up while we were in there - added to the atmosphere - the sales pitch in a range of laguages less so. Headed to the other side of the Kremlin to try and find Gagarin's grave. Nothing doing but watched the changing of the guard at the memorial to the unknown soldier. Liked the way they insisted on respect at the memorial. Any sitting or leaning on it anywhere got a good whistle from the chief guard.Les mer