So I was standing in front of Pushkin House in London and the first thing I had to do was to ring the bell. After paying for the ticket for the evening's event - a talk as I was especially reminded by the seller at the desk (Was my English so bad, as I had only referred to the official title "An Evening with Michael Pennington"?!) I had ordered, I took a look around and settled into the library, where there was also an exhibition of photographs. While I was looking at one and commenting on a cigarette, I was addressed in the following way: "Ich spreche auch Deutsch." And my subsequent reply, summing up all I do remember of my two semesters of Russian at the Westfälische Wilhelms Universität 21 years ago, was : "Я энаю Русский язык только немного", which really is a shame but I had just this one year of Russian and quit it again to study the fine arts at the Kunstakademie.
So the main event of the evening and the true reason for my journey was advancing and in the library I heard a voice that sounded familiar gently and tenderly commenting on the fact that whomever he was addressing had been all too kind to attend this event on an evening like this.
Anyway I decided to go upstairs and settle for some seat at the back of the auditorium, expecting the things to come...
To be continued...
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