Ordeal continues

Since last wrote been back to Moscow: officially to find good lawyer, unofficially to visit Auntie Mischa for much needed comfort. In difficult times, important to have support of family. Friends been great, but not same as people who've known you all your life.

For new readers, am being taken to court for libel of principal tutor of creative writing course at renowned Fritzonian Institute. Still reeling from such news. Although have been frank about problems of course, don't feel have maligned tutor, only reported difficulty in understanding literary theory and imbalance of programme, spending too much time on Derrida. After all, embarked on Masters in order to become better writer, not to study deranged French philosophers.

Met at station by Auntie Mischa, taken home and given delicious meal and spent evening by log fire (still unseasonably cold in Moscow in middle of May), chatting about old times. Auntie wise enough to know when to distract me from worries. Following day, we met with her lawyer, Kaminski, to discuss who could represent me. Although Moscow has many excellent barristers, no-one with particular expertise in libel cases, who also speaks fluent English. Of course possible to have translator, but as Auntie Mischa pointed out, important not to miss nuances of language. Agreed reluctantly best way forward is to find Scottish advocate. Kaminski conferring with colleagues for recommendation.

On third night in Moscow, discussed friendly witnesses with Auntie. Agreed that Oscar - the most loyal and eloquent of chimps - would be most helpful. Especially as is always balanced. Chi-Chi might also speak up for me, though might have conflict of interest due to position as

writer-in-residence for the Institute .

Also pandas notoriously uncomfortable in witness box, presumably because of its relatively small size.

Henri known me from start of Masters and is well-intentioned but impossible to imagine him not using opportunity to promote his book. And some people very sniffy about guinea pigs. Saussure, of course, could testify as to my ongoing struggle to understand more academic aspects of study and might argue that I used humour in letters as way of coping with difficult situations.

Anyway, returned to Edinburgh yesterday feeling calmer and more positive. Pleasant surprise awaiting me as train pulled into Waverley: Cindy and Maya, fellow students, on platform. Ignored my protests about being tired and dragged me off to Princes Street gardens to enjoy

sunshine. Touched by such loyalty. Even more surprisingly, their friend - Véronique, known to accompany them everywhere, stayed at home. Apparently is working on my defence.

Date for court case not yet set. Meanwhile, determined not to let

studies go down the drain and have decided will work for minimum of two hours each day on memoirs of Granny Mischa - even if court finds me guilty and am not allowed to submit dissertation for Masters.

Purrs

Bakhtin

Nightmare

Have been through terrible time over last few weeks and the worst is yet to come.  My world came crashing down one Monday.  The day began well, sunny and warm, and flatmate, Saussure, in good mood.  Even Notsaussure thought he might have productive day.  Padded through to kitchen to find Neville attempting to repair floorboards, buoyed by positive seance previous night, when he'd communicated with Granny Elena in Moscow.  Then doorbell rang.  Nobody made to answer so I did.

Official looking man on landing with letter for me, requiring signature.  With trembling paws opened it.  Letter informed me that as I had not responded to earlier letter requesting I delete defamatory blogs about lecturer at Fritzonian Institute, lawsuit now being taken out.  Advised to find lawyer immediately.

So shocked, could hardly crawl back to basket.  At lunchtime, Saussure appeared to see what was wrong.  Explained situation to him, including fact that hadn't received earlier letter.  He summoned Neville through.  White mouse most irritated to be dragged away from mending kitchen floor, which, as he pointed out, we'd been nagging him to do for months.

In his most severe tone with a scary look of gravitas, Saussure asked him if he'd seen official-looking letter for me in the post over the last month or so.  Neville tried bluffing, then when Saussure explained my dire situation, mouse's face went whiter than rest of him and he admitted a bunch of boring looking mail had arrived one day.  The first few letters were from the bank and he'd assumed the rest were equally tedious and used them to gather up cat and mouse poo.  Saussure, by now looking extremely scary, told Neville that I would have to endure a court case because of his stupidity, at which point Neville scampered out of the bedroom and hasn't been seen since.

First thing I did after that conversation with Neville and Saussure, was contact Auntie Mischa in Moscow to see if she could recommend lawyer.  She advised - quite rightly so, Saussure thinks (Notsaussure not at all convinced) - that it would look better to hire British lawyer, to avoid any residual prejudice against Moscow lawyer after Cold War.  Still looking.

As readers will appreciate, impossible to focus on Major Project for institute course on creative writing.  Impossible to think about anything else.  Oscar thought it might be wise to delete blogs, but a) suspect it's too late  b) it's a matter of integrity.

Henri, needless to say, thrilled by possiblity of being called as witness to substantiate my writings about lecturer obsessed with Derrida, and already planning promotion of his cookery book, Guineapigging Out, even though this would be highly unorthodox behaviour in a court.

Amidst all this angst about court proceedings - though as Notsaussure in uncharacteristically optimistic train of thought pointed out, Jeffrey Archer's reputation as writer greatly increased since doing time and might be the same for me if I went to prison - also worried about Neville.  Although that mouse has caused me tons of grief, still fond of him, and strangely enough, miss all his crazy antics in our flat.

Purrs Bakhtin