30 October 1930

I heaved a HUGE sigh of relief today when I determined once and for all that I am in NO WAY related to Joseph Stalin. The pattern of moustaches in my family was beginning to worry me, and when I saw this man my first impression was that he was definitely a distant Squilm family member. Alas, he is not, and I can once again breathe.

I am here in the Soviet Union, and I don’t have much time to write, for I have an appointment arranged with one Nikolai Bukharin within a half hour. A man I met at the post office is his cousin, and claimed that he remembered the Squilm family name for some reason . . . personally I think that this man has gone off his rocker a bit, but the meeting has been arranged so I may as well speak to Bukharin. It will be a very interesting rendezvous for many reasons. Less than a year ago, Mr. Bukharin was expelled from the Politburo by Stalin; I am intrigued to hear what he has to say about the powerful leader. The other day, I happened to see a caravan full of kulaks that were being relocated. I seized the opportunity to jump onto the caravan and speak to them, to find out more about what is going on right now. They were all weeping for the lifestyle that had been torn away from them and dreading the lives they would now be forced to lead. They could see I was confused, and proceeded to explain that Stalin wants to transform Russia’s economic base from agriculture to industry, but still wanted to be raking in money while this happened. I find it hard to believe that he doesn’t so much as regard the people he is mindlessly destroying by doing this.

Europe has been a scary place. There are so many angry people who want revenge, who want security, who want to live again. So much for my relaxing holiday plans.