Vladimir’s Log (Entry 15). “Began the latest project overnight. My photographer, bless him, has put it down to teething. In actual fact, I’m not overly keen on late 20th-century design, and have decided, starting with one of the legs, to re-model this Post-Modern beechwood kitchen table into an early 19th-century, Russian Empire style equivalent. Obviously, there’s still a hell of a lot to do – tapering and fluting all four legs will not be at all easy – but when it’s finished it will look much nicer and, given my Russian heritage, far more suitable! See you soon.” Vlad+

Vladimir’s Log (Entry 14). “Lovely sunny day out there. My photographer came back from our early morning walk complaining how bitterly cold it was, that wearing fingerless gloves had been a huge mistake, and that frostbite had probably set in. What a wuss! I reckon it’s pretty warm – it’s a darn site colder in Vladivostok! PS. I’m really in the ‘doghouse’ with the photographer and the chef at the moment – all because I’ve had that big curtain down to the left of the window. Personally, I don’t see the problem. In fact it makes it a lot easier to see what’s going on in my front garden! Hey ho.” Vlad+

Vladimir’s Log (Entry 13). “It hasn’t been the best week. I was taken to the vet by my photographer-driver and the chef on Monday morning having, as the vet surmised, ‘probably eaten something dodgy off the ground when walking in the park on Sunday’. The upshot is, I’m on reduced rations – basically, boiled rice and chicken or white fish three times a day – until my rear end improves. I’m not at all happy about the pathetically reduced portions on offer, nor by the sudden disappearance of the tasty little treats for doing ‘sit Vlad, what a good sit’. This is as nothing, however, to the disgruntlement of the photographer when he was told my examination plus a small tube of sludgy brown medicine to be mixed into my feed would be 66 quid. Muttering, before we’d even left the surgery, that he felt pillaged, and that he really hoped the vet and her husband would enjoy their heavily subsidised Caribbean cruise this winter, was embarrassing. Judging by the incredulous look on his face, he also seemed somewhat put-out during breakfast on Wednesday morning when, halfway through his bowl of Special K, soya milk and a banana, the chef explained the steam rising from the top of the stove was coming from the line-caught cod she was poaching for mummy’s little soldier to help his tummy get better. Oh well. Have a good weekend.” Vlad