An overnight train has taken us back to Almaty for the final two nights - we were supposed to be going up into another set of mountains but the snow has started to melt and the roads are all closed. I always know when it’s time to go home, when I start fantasising how to inflict painful murder on a member of the group. You always get one odd ball on these trips but I’ve been slightly more tolerant of this one as they are obviously mentally ill. God knows why they come to places which stress them out to the eyeballs.

Today saw me wading through knee high snow drifts looking at red squirrel in pine trees while the others looked at pretty crocuses. I also was very tempted to go back and get cultured with Barber of Seville at that opera house, but have decided I better attend the group meal instead. It has ended up being a recommendation by two Americans who went there the first night and thought it amazing - basically a Kazakhstan fast food alcohol-free joint. Great joy.

At least my next two planned trips are with people I like - back to Colombia in December with Ween and then Mexico for Day of the Dead festival next year with Anne. I may need to rethink this group business.