Let's start at the beginning...

Once upon a time (as all good adventure stories begin…) Little Roo went to the Russian Embassy to get a visa, as per the mysterious instructions e-mailed from Moscow. It was everything that Little Roo had imagined: a grand fortress hidden behind high walls in a leafy suburb. Inside it was decorated in 1970s-benefit-office-meets-church-hall style. The dour woman at the tiny counter window peered through the triple-glazed toughened glass; she had the air of someone who knew the Cold War could re-start at any minute and she was not going to be caught out being friendly and helpful to “the enemy”. No visa here. A trek across the city to another office allowed Little Roo more time to rehearse what she should say if they asked for additional information: “I am an advisor, going to Moscow on business. I am going to meet with representatives of my field of activity to settle a mutual beneficial co-operation(??) ”. In the event, the staff were not interested in this nonsensical story, now committed to memory, but insisted that a supporting letter be faxed from Moscow. Arriving minutes before the office closing time (via a chain of communication involving at least three layers of “middle men”), the letter was in Russian so Little Roo was none the wiser about who she would be meeting in Moscow.