... From the first visit to Moscow, I have a desire to buy a house outside the city. But here I am faced with an almost unsolvable problem: foreigners are prohibited from traveling farther than forty kilometers from Moscow - only by special permission. In addition, a house near the city is worth big money, and they simply do not sell it. And I leave this thought. At the beginning of our life with you, returning from friends from their dachas from the Moscow region, each time we begin to dream and give ourselves the word to buy our own house once. For several years we have reviewed many houses. Once we were offered a house with a plot of twenty acres, facing the river, where birches and spruces grow.
We begin to draw house designs, discuss possible options. I want to have a fireplace and a large kitchen that goes into the living room. You want a loft where you can work. We dream of evenings that we would spend without neighbors - you would play the guitar, we would sing ...
We dream of bathing in the summer, winter walks, we wander along the river, admiring the magnificence of this virgin corner, which is still so close to the big city. Alas! Very quickly, we will have to abandon this undertaking: it turns out that there is a radio interception station five hundred meters from the house, but we still could not understand what kind of metal antennas there were, enclosed by grids and bushes. Naturally, foreigners do not live in such a place.
Another time we are going to watch a small old hut, painted blue and white, with a vegetable garden, which the grandfather of the family lovingly takes care of, who sells the house. We come back here several times, I fell in love with these places. We drink tea with amazing homemade jam. Slowly, a large tiled stove is heated. One of the rooms under the roof will be your office. We make plans, we want to tear down partitions and make one big room on the first floor. A huge old birch grows at the porch, and we already imagine how well it is to sit under it in the shade at the height of summer and drink very cold raspberry juice, the recipe of which was given to me by an old man ... The deal is concluded. One spring morning we arrive. The money is in my purse. But from the sad face of my grandfather, we can guess that something has been banned again. They explain to us that in this village they live mostly in the military, and therefore the presence of an odious person with a foreigner here is impossible. We leave the garden with tears in our eyes. I only have a photo where the old man, smiling, holds out to me an armful of freshly cut flowers.
Desperate to find a way out, I decide to buy a caravan while traveling to America. We saw these houses at the exhibition, and you really wanted to buy one - compact, with a shower, a kitchen and a heating system in case of cold weather. You imagine a trip to Russia, and then you can put it somewhere among friends near Moscow to live there. We count all the advantages: freedom of movement, convenience, reasonable price for gasoline in the USSR. You caught fire, you even find a Soviet cargo ship, where you have a friend - the captain, to deliver a van to Odessa. But it turned out that he was worth a fortune. Over the years of travel, I have squandered my last savings, and since I am less and less withdrawn, such a purchase simply exceeds my possibilities. And then the idea to build a house on the site of one of the friends.
The only person among our acquaintances who has a cottage with a big garden is your childhood friend Edik Volodarsky. He immediately agrees to give us part of his plot. I draw a plan: a living room with a fireplace and a kitchen, two rooms, a bathroom, a spiral staircase to the attic ... On the south side there will be a terrace. All - wooden and small sizes. This is the seventy-eighth year. The epic begins, about which we even have no idea. In this country it is impossible to acquire legally an elementary nail or the most ordinary board. Therefore, you have to travel all over the city and suburbs up and down to find building materials. You buy them, overpaying, to pull. You give concerts in every factory, in every institution, in the warehouse from where you get them. You manage to get everything you need - from the foundation to the roof: in two days the foundation was laid by a team of builders that made garages for a sanatorium nearby. Roof involved working scenes from your theater. The fence was from some construction site, and we were sold almost worth its weight in gold. After the concert at the Moscow Gas Producers Club we are let in gas. After another concert we put the carpets. With a sin in half, the plumbing matched by color, we bring in an ambulance car, having agreed with the chauffeur. That is all we get, but blat. And without cronyism, we would have nothing. Usually it is not so much about money as about exchange. One concert - for ten meters of the palace (in the usual way it can be obtained only by appointment, and then you have to wait for a share). It generally changes the entrance to the institute for a foreign car, a few bottles of whiskey for installing a windshield, theater tickets for fresh vegetables in the winter and so on.
All summer I cook huge pots of borsch for workers.
They live right here on the site, and every morning I bring a full car of products. You arrive in the evening and sometimes you eat to everyone's pleasure. The work is slowly progressing, it would be necessary to finish before winter, but there are so many different difficulties that we decide to suspend construction until spring. The house is so far only a frame, but it already has a roof and windows. We beat the boards instead of the doors, giving ourselves the word in the seventy-ninth year to house-warm. I am leaving Moscow with a long list of things that I will have to bring next time. Fortunately, at the last minute you have a good idea. One of our friends, Oleg, is returning from London to Moscow, and he has the right to bring a container with furniture. Thus, we can bring everything you need to give. I'm going to London, and there just began a seasonal sale, and everyone rushed to shop. Three days in a row, from morning to evening, I spend in shops in an indescribable crowd and buy everything that can be arranged and decorated with our summer cottage. Salon in the English style, lamps, beds, all home linen, a huge refrigerator, which, as you requested, constantly gives out ice cubes. I also buy dishes, oven, food processor. In a word, I’m completely going bankrupt, but terribly happy, imagining how you will be delighted.
When I come back and again take up the construction of a summer house, the whole trouble begins again. We find that the batteries have not been cleaned in time and they burst in the winter, which means they will have to be changed. Large boards of pressed sawdust swelled with moisture, and we need a compressor to dry, which we take out at Mosfilm. When it is included in the network, traffic jams fly out in the whole village. A tile of indeterminate color, which was intended for a bath, was beaten almost completely, while a drunk chauffeur carried it to the board. But little by little our building starts to become like a real house. By the end of the seventy-ninth year furniture arrives. I spend whole days alone, putting everything in the house, but they call me to France for a shoot, and I'm leaving. We do not manage to housewarming.
In the spring of the eightieth year, everything is ready, but because of your serious condition, we spend only two days in the country, which we dreamed of. All these efforts, all the money spent, all these things will never serve us. Two short nights, a few hours of solitary work, many plans and hopes - and everything breaks off. In the end, this house - the object of desire of your former friends, who believe that it belongs to them, because it is built on their territory - will end life under the knife of the bulldozer, which they will drive there with anger after long bazaars between your family, my representatives. The furniture will be sold, and all things will be in the house of your former friends. I wanted to give the house to your children, but the site owner had other plans. Seeing that they could not appropriate the house, they destroyed what they could not possess. There are only a few photos taken in September of the eightieth.
Looking at them, I can't help but think that maybe if we were allowed to buy a house in the village from the very beginning, this would prolong your life for a few years ...
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