Borscht and Fame
It all started on 5th November, a Sunday morning which promised to be quite uneventful. I went to the church and was on my way back thinking about re-writing the book I have recently finished and cooking Borscht - a Russian beetroot soup - which for some reason often comes to mind in cold November weather. That and the logs burning in the fireplace. I was contemplating about the whereabouts of the box of disposable household gloves which I'm wearing while peeling beetroot to avoid ruining my manicure (or whatever is left of it) and leaving hands stained red for good few days prompting the neighbours asking me whether I have killed anyone lately. That was the moment when I first received a text message from R. - a friend of mine, a writer and a member of the Savile Club in Mayfair, London, saying: "Have you seen the article in The Telegraph? Was that about you?". I knew that R. was in the process of moving his house busily packing the belongings, so he won't just
