Bolt

Day 9: Moscow (RUS). As Anastasiya Yatsenko took her final encores, I had to admit there was a tear in my eye. “It must be awful smoky in here”, I said to Karen, as the house lights came up in the Bolshoi Theatre. She said nothing but gave me a knowing smile as we slowly made our way up the aisle to the exit at the back of the auditorium.

When it comes to art and literature, I'm a bit of a philistine. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I dislike art - it's that to be honest, I don't really understand it. And so ordinarily, give me a choice between going the ballet or going to the football, I'd have my Watford scarf on before you could say “Ah, referee!”. But our travel adventure was about new experiences and as we were in Moscow, home of arguably the best ballet company in the world, performing at arguably the best ballet venue in the world, we simply couldn't miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Moscow had turned up in its finery; black ties, ball gowns, diamonds and tiaras. And then there was Karen and me: Hiking boots, muddy trousers, fleeces and woolly hats – clearly the scruffiest people there – but nobody minded (well we didn't anyway!)

As the spectacle in front of us unfolded I became completely entranced by the powerful combination of music and dance as the State Academy performed Dmitry Shostakovich's Bolt; a ballet in two acts depicting the tale of a disgruntled factory workers plot for industrial sabotage; a theme deemed so controversial in 1930's communist Russia that it was banned after its one opening night performance and remained confined to the text books until re-instated by the Bolshoi in 2005.

The talent, commitment and dedication of the dancers and players shone through in their performance, and even philistines like me were able to grasp what was going on. Karen, did however make me laugh in the final scene when Ivashka's dream conjured up ballerinas on scooters dressed in red flying suits complete with Biggles hats & goggles. “It looks like a highly coordinated version of the Red Barrows!”, she said And she was absolutely right. (Although the only people that would understand that reference are people from Steeple Morden who have seen Shostakovich's ballet. Chris?)

As we made the way out of the Theatre we were reminded of our presence in Moscow by the usual souvenir sellers selling their incredible repertoire of tat: Bolshoi Theatre snowstorms, ballet shoe fridge magnets; Swan Lake tea cosies – they had the lot.

As we made our way to the Metro station, Karen and I reflected on the wonderful evening we had spent and we contemplated our next ballet. Maybe, just maybe, I did have that 'culture gene' after all.