So, we decided to take the plunge and become expats. Almost immediately I was faced with my first task; telling family and friends of our momentous move. This was an interesting experience because misconceptions about our destination - Moscow - abound. Few people in western Europe have travelled there, so it's understandable that in the same way that London is universally known by those who've never visited to be constantly rain-soaked, gloomy, and require copious use of galoshes in all seasons, and Amsterdam is portrayed as a den of iniquity with red-lit windows on every street and ‘coffee shops' on every corner, Moscow has its own fair share of myths that are believed to be thoroughly grounded in fact - and most of which contradict each other.

Let's see... 

• The temperature never gets above freezing  / Isn't it sweltering there in the summer?
• The women all sport moustaches / The women are all top models. 
• You have to queue for hours to buy bread / Don't they eat caviar on everything in Russia? 
• They're ferociously anti-West / They all want to move West and bring their families with them. 
• They couldn't wait to get rid of Communism / They want Communism back. 

So before I even shared the news of our departure with my nearest and dearest, I knew that they would most definitely have an Opinion on our forthcoming adventure. It seemed that most responses to the news fell into one of two camps. 

Let's call the first ‘Camp Unimpressed.' I delivered my earth-shattering news, and a typical response from this group might be: ‘Oh, really?  I'm sure you'll love it. My hairdresser moved there, says it's delightful, and did I tell you that I'm having my bunions removed in a couple of weeks?'

That was galling, because it took the wind out of my self-important sails. Whilst I was OK with the plan, having had time to agonise over it, prevaricate, decide that no, we definitely weren't going, before finally accepting and coming to terms with the move, it had taken us a while to reach this decision. Now that we had finally made it, I found - rather embarrassingly - that I was hoping for (at the very least) a sudden intake of breath from friends and family as they learned the news, before some recognition of the pain it's causing me to leave my home, my comfort blanket, and instant access to a ready supply of Green & Black's chocolate. (Scratch that last one. We're bound to have visitors). 

But I needn't have worried. Once I met the next group - ‘The Doomsayers' - I realised how welcome a laissez-faire attitude and lack of acknowledgement can be from time to time. In fact, I reckon I will be seeking the former group out when total immersion in plans, moving schedules and debates about timing get on top of me (which is any day now) and I want to talk about anything but how many cubic feet of storage we need and how many feet of red tape I have to deal with.

The Doomsayers did grant me the sudden intake of breath. In fact, on being presented with the news that we're heading east not only did most of them gasp, but a few turned pale, several wilted, and one even needed to be supported to the nearest chair to sit down. ‘How can you even think of it?' They asked in hushed tones. ‘Moscow? Are you crazy? Why, the weather never gets above freezing there, you have to queue for hours for a loaf of bread and there are bound to be bugs in the headboard of your bed - and I'm not talking cockroaches, my dear...'

The really annoying thing about these comments is that some of them are, in fact, true. It is cold in Moscow (in the winter), and it can be difficult to get hold of staples (like your favourite brand of chocolate bar, or Sainsbury's Roasted Tomato and Chilli pickle). 

However, I'm determined to look on the bright side. No-one in the family is a spy, so the bugs in the headboard shouldn't be a problem (or at least, nothing that Rentokil-ski can't deal with). And you never know. Whilst living there I may lose my thick and bushy prize-winning moustache and magically metamorphose into a top model. And rather than the crackers with cheese spread I'm about to sit down to (there was no bread at the supermarket this morning), my standard lunchtime fare might be caviar on toast.