Ostorózhno, skól’zko!!

The first Russian phrase I recall hearing after I landed in a freezing Kaliningrad almost exactly seventeen years ago was "Ostorózhno, skól’zko!" (“watch out, it’s slippery”). The sound of the words is perfect, almost onomatopoeic, with the tiniest hint of a ‘w’ before the first ‘o’ in ‘skol’zko’ subtly suggesting sliding and slithering. It was highly appropriate on the pavements of that provincial Russian town so long ago, but the pavements of today’s Ukrainian capital are no better in icy weather – especially after a brief thaw which was followed by a re-freeze. Ironically in these conditions the worst parts are those which have been smartly repaved in modern tiles on which ice is not always visible and which do not even offer the tenuous hold offered by the pitted sidewalk tarmac elsewhere.

Here and there one sees the desultory scattering of a few handfuls of sand, or a lone fellow wielding an icebreaker, but these are of little avail in the general chaos. Most Kievians are resigned to trudging on regardless. Foolishly I attempted to walk to work in these conditions, a stroll which normally takes me half an hour, but on this occasion nearly double that. Two tumbles in swift succession, and three very near misses, have left me with aching bones and a black eye.

As I was scrabbling foolishly around on the ice trying to right myself, there stole into my mind a classic exchange from the Goon Show, in which Seagoon and co. are attempting to steal Napoleon’s piano but can’t get it through the door. After some sound effects of frantic sawing, Seagoon announces ‘There, I’ve cut off all four legs’. Grittpype-Thynne asks ‘But Neddy, doesn’t a grand piano have only three legs?’, at which Eccles announces ‘Hey, I keep falling over!’ I know just how he feels.