As I enter the market, I am assaulted by the strong smell of fish. I walk quickly past the stalls with their frightening-looking underwater creatures – which I assume have come from the lake – and I’m subjected to many calls in Russian, presumably telling me which of their wares are the best and trying to get me to buy them. I head down another aisle and am smacked in the face with the intense aroma of cheese. I slow a bit here, and allow them to tempt me – taking small cubes on cocktail sticks and making appreciate noises. I don’t buy anything. I pass the salivating scents of bread and cakes, the meaty stench of the butchery section, and then I get a strong hint of hops, and I follow my nose down a narrow aisle that leads to the prize.

A series of narrow aisles join a wider open area, where lots of men, of various ages, and a few women, are standing at high tables, drinking from plastic cups of beer. All around the tables are small stalls with one or two beer pumps, and some with snacks: blinis and pretzels and nuts and olives. The sounds of the chatter are echoed and magnified, and I glance up and realise there is a huge glass-domed roof that wasn’t visible from outside. I look around, and see that while I had initially thought that most people were here in groups, there are lots of people on their own too, some sharing tables, some looking like they want to chat and others not. For a moment, I wish that Carrie was here. She would be in her element. She’d be scouting around for the liveliest table, asking for recommendations for the best beers. She’d be in the thick of it. Not like me. Hanging back, those familiar feelings of being overwhelmed coming to the surface. I can hear my mum’s clipped voice: ‘You’re too dull to make friends. It’s no surprise that they all get bored with you.’ I’ve tried though. I have. I shake my head, trying to get my mum’s face out of my mind. Her patronising voice. What did she ever do with her life? Her friends are all fake, only sticking around for her over-the-top parties and her too-expensive gifts. She’s bought all her so-called friends, and I don’t want to be like her.