Russian sojourn

Here I am again, apologising for absence of letters.  If truth be known, so relieved to have found creative energy to continue with Granny Elena's memoirs that have allowed myself to be immersed in writing.  But comments from followers about wanting to hear from me have prompted me to write again.   As I wrote in last letter, after stresses of pending trial (see posts: June 6: An ongoing trial; May 7: Trial begins), was in desperate need to return to Moscow to see family.

Wanted to fly but, despite being related to famous Mikhail Bakhtin,  brought up to be economical whenever possible and as it was too late to get cheap flight, decided to go by train via Brussels, Cologne and Warsaw. 

 A delightful thing happened on the overnight train from Cologne and Warsaw.  My compartment was empty apart from one other traveller who turned out to be a famous writer, Prospelov.  On finding out that Bakhtin was my grandpa he invited me to have dinner with him.  Buffet car was charming: mahogany furniture, linen tablecloths and cosy lamps.  It was dark and snowing.  Had fascinating conversation with Prospelov.  He asked to read my memoirs of Aunt Mischa from my Notebook, then commented that he’d like to be my mentor.  As I hesitated, knowing I couldn’t afford to pay for a mentor, he explained that he was currently researching relationship between mentors and mentees, and therefore wouldn’t charge as I’d be helping him.  Readily accepted and we agreed to meet face to face several times a year and to skype in between.  Although was looking forward to getting to Moscow and seeing my aunt, was almost disappointed when train arrived in Warsaw.

Aunt Mischa met me at station and drove me back to apartment - wonderful place with high ceilings and walnut furniture.  Uncle Stanislav was antiques dealer before dying of heart attack while attempting to move a neo-Renaissance cabinet.

After dinner first night, noticed funny smell in bedroom.  Seemed to be coming from my rucksack which I hadn't unpacked.  As I emptied it out, sprang back when I heard a groan from the bottom.  Miaowed to Aunt Mischa who came scrambling through.  Another groan emerged from rucksack.  Aunt Mischa helped me empty it onto the bed. 





The last thing to fall out was a white, inert object reeking of alcohol.  Old readers will know immediately that this was flatmate, white mouse, Neville.  He opened his eyes, burped and rushed off to loo, presumably to throw up.  On the bed lay a note from another flatmate, Saussure, explaining that Neville was so overcome with guilt at having bought doctored cat nip (see post of 30th October: Retreat to Moscow) that he felt he owed it to me to spend time in Moscow, acting as my assistant (though it didn't state how Neville thought he could assist me).

Aunt Mischa made Neville drink a thimbleful of water and found one of Uncle Stanislav's thickest scarves for him to sleep in.

 

Purrs, Bakhtin

Retreat to Moscow

Did something stupid after libel case postponed for two weeks.  Went home and took large amount of catnip.  This wouldn't have been problem in itself as impossible to overdose on it.  However, unbeknownst to me, there were also some eucalyptus leaves and these, as any cat lover knows, are toxic to cats.

When Saussure came home from giving lecture on Socrates, he found me groaning in agony in basket and immediately dialled 999, forgetting this was emergency number for humans, not animals.  When services realised it was a cat in need, they arranged for emergency vet ambulance to fetch me, and I was admitted to Hospital for Small Animals (attached to University of Edinburgh).  Had stomach pumped.

Hospital kept me in for several days so I could undergo psychiatric evaluation. Suggestions this was a deliberate attempt to end my life are rubbish but couldn't convince staff of this.  Of course, they all knew about court case and thought whole thing had been too much for me.  Psychiatric evaluation showed that although I was somewhat quirky and stubborn, there was nothing wrong with my mood or self-esteem.  I could have told them that.  After all, haven't I been busy writing my Granny Elena's memoirs?  Nevertheless, when hospital recommended holiday was what I needed, decided they were right, and it was time to return to my beloved Moscow to see my family.  Consultant said he'd write to my advocate, Justice Chatterton, to say I wouldn't be fit to resume court case for several months.

When got home, big question was why we had catnip plant doctored with eucalyptus leaves.  Eventually Neville owned up to having bought it from a door-to-door salesman as present to cheer me up.  He was distraught when he'd heard I'd been admitted to hospital.  Had been too frightened to visit me in case any of the staff arrested him. When we teased him about this, he told me he'd got as far as the reception area when he'd seen a police car, so had gone straight home.  He'd spent three days hiding in tartan shopping bag with wheels




Had lovely meal with Saussure, Notsaussure and Neville before flying to Moscow following day.

More in next letter.

Purrs, Bakhtin

An ongoing trial

What a trial is this trial.  With stress of case being adjourned until new jury sworn in ( see post of May 7: Trial begins), find myself wandering round flat muttering riddles, adages.  Keen to get on with my life.  Relieved to receive letter informing me trial reopening on June 5.

At court, watched jury being sworn in: 8 humans and 7 animals.  Delay had been due to finding jurors who hadn't already heard something and could therefore be impartial.  New judge also appointed:  a giraffe, which made me hopeful that case would be ruled fairly.


Case began with opening speech from prosecution.

'The prosecution will prove that regularly throughout the first year, the accused committed libel by writing defamatory comments in his publicly available letters that the lecturer had an obsession with the highly-esteemed French philosopher, JacquesDerrida.  This has caused the lecturer distress and interfered with her ability to deliver the creative writing programme in the way it should.'

My advocate then followed with his speech.  This is what he said:

'Members of the Jury, on a point of law, the Scottish legal system, does not distinguish between libel and slander, and all cases are simply defamation.  Our case is straightforward, so straightforward, in fact, that it should never have been brought to court.  My client, Bakhtin, a gifted writer, if ever there was one, such genius being displayed in his regular letters, never, in any of these letter, identified the lecturer by name.  Moreover, I have read each of those quite brilliant letters and the language used is mild and should not have caused offence or distress.  Lastly, and I quote the definition of defamation:  publication must be a statement which claims to be fact.  My client was merely expressing an opinion, something to which we are all entitled.'  

Justice Chatterton then sat down and conferred with the two lawyers seated behind him.  I tried not to smile too much, but it was hard.  Hadn't realised until now how eloquent my advocate is.

Could see there was consternation in the prosecution side: raised voices, wild flapping of arms.  

'Is there a problem?' the judge asked.

'Yes, My Lord, there is,' the prosecution advocate said.

'Do share it with us,' the Judge said, struggling to conceal his yawns.  (The yawning also made me feel better - suggesting he, too, thought the case was a joke).

'It's a matter of.... some sensitivity,' the prosecution advocate continued.

'I'm intrigued,' the Judge said, yawning again.

My client has objected to... to'

At this point the lecturer called out:  'I object to having a giraffe as a judge.  This will prevent the trial from being impartial.'

The Judge replied:  'Why did your advocate not announce this at the start of this morning.'

The lecturer replied:  'He has problems with erm, aphasia, my Lord.'

The Judge said:  'An advocate who struggles from aphasia?  Most original.  But addressing your concern, if the Judge were human, then the defence could legitimately make the same complaint.  And as, to my knowledge, there are no practising judges who are half human/half animal, we have reached an impasse.  Unless, of course, we appoint a second judge who is human.  I will have to consult for judicial precedence.  I will therefore adjourn this case for two weeks.'   

The Clerk then announced: 'All rise for the judge.'

We did, and the giraffe hobbled out of court.

Of course, the press, waiting outside in their hundreds, had a field day.

Purrs 

Bakhtin