Anglican Christmas in the Soviet Capital

In 19 90, an anglican christmas in the soviet capital was still a personal matter. The street on which we lived was an immensely wide avenue built for giants. It roared day and night with dirty, spluttering vehicles. Yet even this highway fell silent for the holiday. But this was not our celebration. It was its enemy. I have disliked the new year heartily ever since. In those days, it was dangerous to the spirit to go home even for a day or two. You immediately lost the hard carapace of grim humour and shared adversity t built up over months of endurance. We had decided to live in moscow, and we were damned well going