Jamie has now departed, so I’m left picking up the pieces of stuff we didn’t have time to do. Me and Tadich visit the Starlite Diner. Tadich tells me that round the corner some highly unpleasant guy he knows is having lunch with the ousted President of Georgia's granddaughter. "One time, I saw her open her handbag, and it was full of hundred-dollar bills," says Tadich.
We go to Maxim Gorky's house, the Ryabushinsky Mansion, given to the writer by the state in 1931. The Gorkster, as he was known to friends, was a bit reluctant to accept the honour, thinking that living in a whopping great mansion might tarnish his "proletarian" image a bit. When one guest toasted "the master of the house", Gorky went mental and shouted, "Do not call me master! I am not the master of this house! MosSoviet is the master!"
A trip to Moscow's premier pirate DVD market follows, then we go to a classical music concert, which features a piano trio playing works by Schumann, Schubert and Brahms. Then we get baked potatoes from a kiosk and eat them on the street.
I get home and realise that the Arcade Fire gig that I had a ticket for is, at this exact moment, about to start back in London. In tribute, Tadich puts on their first album. He makes sure the tracks are randomly shuffled too, so it's exactly like being there.