Have a Good NEWS

"How long have you been in Moscow?"

My four years in Russia end, then, in dramatic fashion: with a textbook Soviet-style expulsion. I am the first western staff correspondent to suffer this fate since the end of the cold war. I'm stunned. But my expulsion is not, I reflect, a surprise. It's something I have always accepted as a real, if far-fetched, possibility. Western correspondents in Moscow meet at least once a month in informal gatherings known as the "hack pack". Six months earlier, a young woman doing an internship at the ministry of foreign affairs turned up at hack pack drinks. Asked which journalist the ministry hated most, she unwittingly replied: "There's a guy called Luke Harding - they really hate him."

The reasons are unfathomable. This could be a pragmatic victory for the Kremlin's liberals. It's also possible that British diplomacy has done the trick. It's only later I reflect that the climbdown may always have been the plan. The FSB's decision has turned our life as a family upside down.

Back in England, I immediately deadlock the front door. In cafes and restaurants I glance over my shoulder, on the lookout for young men wearing cheap, ill-fitting suits and brown shoes. Once, I hear Russian voices outside on the street and find myself following two men. But over time, it appears that the old world has gone for good. When I return to the house, the white patio doors - bolted when I left - are still bolted. Household objects remain where I left them. We are anonymous again. And - I think - safe.