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It seems that I'll be writing quite a lot about Russian literature this year.

I recently spoke on the subject of "Pelevin and beyond", wrote a review for a magazine on the latest Russian fiction publications in English, and I am looking forward to the London Book Fair, which will be featuring 50 or so Russian writers, many of whom are my friends.

Therefore I couldn't miss the new series of documentaries, aired by ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ World Service called How My Country Speaks, which - according to the producers - "discovers how the poetry of different countries interprets nationhood, nationalism and patriotism".

The series started with Irina Ratushinskaya - the well-known Russian poet, who was incarcerated in 1982 for 12 years in a labour camp for writing "anti-Soviet" verse.

There's a famous Russian saying that "a poet in Russia is bigger than just a poet".

This is certainly true in the case of poet Yevgeniy Yevtushenko, who gathered together stadiums full of listeners during the Cold War "thaw" in the 1960s.

However I wouldn't confine grand statements of this sort just to Russia.

As John Lennon said of The Beatles "We're more famous than Jesus".

But what's true about Russia's literature is it mainly focuses on how to achieve harmony between the internal and external, between the present body and lost overcoat, the borrowed spirit and own life, foreign ideas and local reality.

These ideas began with Nikolay Gogol's short story Overcoat - according to Dostoevsky all subsequent Russian literature was influenced by it.

There is a constant metaphysical gap among the systems of ideology followed by the Russian public life, whether it's Middle Eastern Christianity, German Marxism, or Western consumerism, or the Russian natural mentality.

Different ethnic groups have adapted universal systems of ideology according to the conditions of their lives: the Iranians have mastered the Shia branch within Islam, the Central Asian nations transposed Islam in the local fashion through Sufism, whereas the English or Germans created local adaptations of Christianity in Anglican or Lutheran forms.

As for Russians, they seem to profess the very orthodoxy of those universal systems.

So it was with Christianity, as was the case both with Marxism during the Bolsheviks, and now with consumerism.

And Russian literature - including Russian poetry - tries to understand and harmonise those excesses of zeal in followship.

Poetry as an expression of the best of the language of any country is the closest representation of a national mentality and in that sense it's often seen as the force opposed to all imposed systems of ideology, including state propaganda.

Therefore quite often the liberating qualities of poetry are considered as a potent and imminent threat to state ideologies.

Ratushinskaya herself says that she has never written any protest poetry, however writing poetry as such was enough for the Soviet authorities to sentence her for 12 years.

The Soviets ceased to exist, but poets are still behind the bars in many post-Soviet countries.

Yusuf Juma, Mamadali Mahmud and Dilmurod Sayid of Uzbekistan, Vladimir Neklyaev of Belarus (has only recently been released), Shota Gagarin, Aleksi Chigvinadze, Irakli Kakabadze of Georgia, Alpamys Bekturganov of Kazakhstan and many others are still listed by International PEN as imprisoned poets.

One of the poets from this documentary Inna Kabysh reads her poem Making the Jam in July and ends it with the bitter words:

Whoever makes jam in Russia
Knows there's no way out...

But as if answering her, Irina Ratushinskaya wrote in October, 1982, in the KGB prison in Kiev where she was being held, an ode to the liberating strength of the poetry, which could persist through everything, saying:

Murcat! Look, my cat:
What a sun, even the glass of the window aches!

I heard his voice and his name on the short radio waves before I met him in Bush House.

It's a strange relationship indeed: human voice versus human look.

Zinovy Zinik - one of the acclaimed Bush House writers is fascinated by this relationship.

He recalls that once he asked his listeners to describe the iconic figure of the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ Russian Service of the Cold War era Anatoliy Goldberg.

"Some said they saw him with a military crew cut and smoking a pipe, others with slicked down hair and a neat parting, and others with whiskers and a permanent walking stick.

"In short, each saw in him as his own favourite type.

"Goldberg's intonation - like Bach's immortal Variations - still echoes in the voices of ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ radio announcers. That legendary baritone, the tone, embodied an entire political attitude. This was the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ ID card too." - remembers Zinik and continues: "All of us, especially at the time of the Iron Curtain, led a kind of ethereal existence. We existed for Russia on the air only, in a bodiless state."

Liberty, anonymity, travelling beyond borders, creating a new world, which is free of your past - all these characteristics which could be applied to the radio voice, are also in the centre of Zinik's latest book 'History thieves', which has just been published by 'Seagull' publishing house.

The annotation to this beautifully produced and written book says:

"Coming from a thoroughly secular Soviet background, the Russian-British novelist Zinovy Zinik became aware for the first time of his 'Jewishness' when he emigrated to Israel in the 1970s. In this stylistically innovative autobiographical tale, Zinik describes how an experience in Berlin--of seeing for real the house he dreamed about many years before in London-led him to investigate the chequered and enigmatic past of his Russian-born grandfather, who, while ostensibly practicing as a doctor in Lithuania, was building the Soviet empire from which Zinik tried to escape 50 years later. In the manner of the classic detective story, Zinik's meditation on 'assumed identity' and 'plagiarized past' culminates in the notion of recognition as a redeeming factor, suggesting that it is central not only to the twentieth-century Jewish experience or even the wider world of émigrés, exiles and migrants of all kinds but to the human condition itself."

Being quite sarcastic about the stereotypes of what is called nowadays 'profiling', Zinik shows on many examples the ephemeral nature of the foundation on which we assume strangers' identity.

For instance, explaining what we consider as the orthodox Jewish dress now, Zinik tells that it "came from a region in Poland where one of the chief rabbis sent his emissaries to Paris every year so that his flock could keep up with the current French fashion. This habit lasted until the rabbi's death sometime in the mid-seventeenth century. According to the Talmudic interpretation of the Law, a Jew should follow his father's way of life, death and dress strictly. Therefore, the Parisian fashion of black hats trimmed with fur, silky caftans and white stockings (...) had been preserved unchanged by subsequent generations up to now."

"History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake," - said famously James Joyce. In Zinik's interpretation history might be stolen, plagiarised, constructed, invented and reinvented, but ultimately it's a dream, which hints towards recognition.

And as he ends his book: "Every act of recognition conceals both the desire and the fear of being recognised. And it was recognition that was the miracle. The rest was storytelling."

Next week when the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ Russian radio cease to exist in its traditional form and Zinoviy Zinik will leave the Bush House, where he spent more than 35 years, as farewell he can say the same words to his listeners, including myself.

And his voice will be travelling as ever beyond boundaries, creating a new world, which is free of the past...

It is only 50 days to go until the royal wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton .

But what about our own couple - Catriona and Nick - from Pendle, Lancashire, who are getting married the same day?

In her first blog post Catriona told us about her preparation to the big day.

What has changed since then?

Is she more prepared, calmer and more confident?

Or the closer she gets to the date is do preparations get more frantic and more hectic?

Let's hear from Catriona herself:

It's now only 50 days to go until the big day and things are starting to pick up pace.

Considerable pace in fact.

Having gloated about my chilled-out bride-to-be approach for some time, I'm now frantically ordering matching name cards and stationery like the best of them.

Our banns were read out in church last week, followed by tea with the vicar.

We also - one of the highlights of the wedding preparations so far - went for a tasting session to decide on the reception menu.

All of our questions and conversations around the current to-do list went out of the window as we tucked into some very delicious Lancashire beef fillet.

I'm not quite convinced they can replicate the same degree of medium rare perfection when there are 100+ guests, but they seem quietly confident.

My younger brother - a committed food enthusiast - managed to assert himself when deciding who went to the food tasting.

Despite his mere 10 months beyond the legal age of alcohol consumption, he still managed to provide an expert opinion on a selection of wines, and put away a fair amount of steak all in the name of research.

There's been a whole host of little things cropping up at this stage, requiring varying degrees of attention.

Shoes and sashes for the bridesmaids; finalising the order of service; finding umbrellas for the near-certain northern weather.

As is the female tendency, I've taken a lot of this upon myself to sort out - I have that awful affliction of thinking it will be quicker to do it myself rather than hassle someone else to do it.

I have a new-found respect for brides who - come the big day - have pulled off a major feat of organisation and implementation.

If all the tasks involved in organising a wedding were written down as a job description, I'd take one look at think "no... definitely not my skill set. Best not apply."

That said, I do have a group of willing sidemen (and women) - all of whom are very keen to be involved and help out.

I am aware that it is not lack of helpers that is my problem, as much as my own ability to delegate.

FYI - I'm actually pretty good at this in most other areas of my life, as others will attest!

I have relinquished control over the following jobs to our families that are thankfully helping out:

My parents are taking responsibility for sorting out accommodation, printing the orders of service and organising family lunch the day after the wedding.

Nick's family are responsible for transport, and the men's attire on the day (I'm only slightly concerned about a very strong devotion to a certain football club...)

I think both sets of parents would probably like more involvement in the wedding preparations.

Partly because they got married, their parents were heavily involved in shaping the wedding.

And also because they have good ideas and suggestions that they want to share.

I think the challenge comes today when most couples are that bit older than when their parents got married, and also have a strong idea on how they want the day to be - hence being more firmly in the driving seat when it comes to wedding planning.

So, a summary of the highs and lows of the wedding planning process so far:

The best bits: Looking for a dress, trying the food and wine, thinking about the honeymoon...

The worst bits: Spending a lot of time discussing where people will sleep.

It doesn't matter - you'll be asleep! (Note to self - sort out own hotel room for wedding night)

And finally, as my to-do list beckons, what better than to share with you my planning so far by numbers...

• Number of return trips on Virgin Pendolino in the name of wedding planning: 6
• Number of meetings with vicar: 4
• Number of times vicar has mispronounced my name: at least 3
• Number of wedding related pre-marital rows: 3 (unromantic but true!)
• Number of inches I want my hair to grow before wedding 5 (unlikely so I'm told)
• Number of times have tried wedding shoes on while fiancée out of the house: at least 6
• Invites sent out: 110
• RSVPs so far: About 8 - hurry up guys!
• Days to go: 50

Bring it on!

Ever since I became a parent in the middle of my 20s, everything about me: my knowledge, my convictions, my beliefs are against any form of suicide.

Before that, like many other young lads, I did some reckless things, of which I'm now ashamed.

One time I laid between the rails of a rail track and let a train pass over me to prove that I was worth something in the world.

So, when I heard the story of the 26-year-old Mohamed Bouazizi, from Tunisia, who last December set himself on fire out of utter despair, because a police woman publicly humiliated him and confiscated the fruit and vegetables, which he sold to make a living, I felt regret that the only way to make himself heard was self-immolation.

But in the last few weeks all of Tunisia, and not just Tunisia, but the wider Arab world has been on fire with protests.

The spark of one man's anger turned into the flame of revolution for the masses.

Suicide is forbidden in Islam and considered a sin in the Koran.

There's also a famous hadith or saying of the Prophet Mohammed, which states:

"The first of people against whom judgement will be pronounced on the Day of Resurrection will be a man who died a martyr.

"He will be brought and God will ask: What did you do? He will say: I fought for you, until I died a martyr.

"Allah will say: You have lied - you fought so it might be said of you: he is courageous.

"Then he will be dragged into hell-fire".

But my tongue just cannot call Mohammed Bouazizi a sinner.

In 1921 when Uzbeks were fighting Bolsheviks in Central Asia, our great poet Cholpon wrote a famous poem, which is called Desire of Consolation.

He starts by saying:

I don't know, who could console my heart,
mountains, stones, or flowing waters?

Nothing consoles him, neither stars, nor girls, neither tunes, nor dreams.

And he ends the poem by saying:

If the seas boil, throwing their waves,
if the paths of a walker are cut,
if his right and left turns into water
will his moistened eyes console him?

The heart can't be consoled by thoughts,
nor its desire satisfied by contemplations.
They say that the candle won't burn in the darkness
unless the real sons of men strike the matches.

Human history knows those who were set aflame to enlighten the darkness of the world: the peasant girl Jeanne d'Arc, the famous scholar Giordano Bruno, the Vietnamese monk Thich Quang Duc, just to name a few.

Mohamed Bouazizi may become one of them.

And though I'm personally still firmly opposed any form of suicide, seeing the waves and tides of liberty washing over the Arab and Islamic world, I myself, with moistened eyes, unwittingly repeat the words of the great Turkish poet Nazym Hikmet:

If I'm not aflame,
if you are not aflame,
if we are not aflame,
how will the darkness turn into light?

This piece was commissioned by and written for ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ Radio 4.

You can listen to the programme in its entirety here.