Nicholas Quirke was exhausted after 7 hours of sight seeing. With 3 days in Moscow he had thought he would take it easier and not maintain the frenetic pace that his journey had dictated to him thus far. However, his hunger to see and experience the world unfolding to him was too great a lure to resist and after a quick breakfast he took to the streets and gave his feet a punishing they would not forget. Nicholas had mastered the lack of WiFi on the streets by checking maps Before leaving and heading off in the direction he expected the location to be. He was really pleased with the location of his hotel as it was close to the sights he was eager to see and with Red Square top of the agenda for the day he began his day. His route was through the theatre district and he stopped to enjoy the sight of the Bolshoi which was an immense building and excited by his proximity to this legendary company he attempted to buy a ticket. The queues were long and he decided to attempt later. A ticket tout persisted in trying to sell to him but Nicholas was now so wary of being ripped off he was adamant in his refusals. There was a plethora of Christmas fairs and stalls and music and they all somewhat spoilt the views of the buildings. Once he reached Red Square and tried to imagine the troops and tanks being paraded and overseen by the Soviet Premiers and Politburo, the frivolity of the festive decorations and market made it difficult conjure up the images. Never the less, the walls of the kremlin, the incredibly eccentric architecture, Lenin’s impressive, austere Tomb and the strange beauty of St Basil’s Cathedral were awe inspiring. The interior of the cathedral was quite extraordinary. A warren of small rooms off beautifully decorated cloisters before opening up in the 2nd tier to a magnificent alter, littered with astonishingly beautiful Icons. He negotiated the perilous steps back to the square to enjoy the streets And park surrounding The kremlin. He had somehow spent 5 hours without pause drinking the glories that surrounded him and headed for a well earned, if frugal Late lunch. Nicholas had trained at the Drama Centre where the central discipline was Stanislavski’s method. therefore, he felt it imperative that he visit the Moscow Arts Theatre museum, where he was greeted by a security guard delighted to show off his English pronunciation. The exhibition was a vast collection of photographs, costumes, hauntingly beautiful set designs and memorabilia from the productions. It was amazing to see and learn that some of the productions were 5 or 6 years in rehearsal. The experience had an added lustre as a small group of children were rehearsing a play amongst the historical treasures. it was an oddly moving experience and Nicholas was surprised to discover he had spent over two hours studying the exhibits. By the time he left it was dark and his feet hurt. He was too tired to conjure up the energy to get tickets and go to the ballet so he got something to eat and went back to the hotel. In Brighton, it was customary on a Sunday for him to watch a movie with His son Cole, not one to break a tradition easily, he logged into Mubi and treated himself to the stylish hokum Charade. It was a relaxing end to a glorious day.