The arrival is scheduled for central Moscow on December 26th. A man looking remarkably like Santa Claus, though thinner and more aesthetic in appearance, will come in with his sleigh-load of presents from the toy factory in Veliky Ustyug in the northern province of Vologda.
His name is Dyed Moroz (Grandfather Frost) and he will be accompanied by his helper Snegurichka (The Snow Maiden).
At this stage it might be as well to straighten out the details of the calendar. December 26th is the official start to Russia's festive season.
It leads up to the Novy God (new year) celebrations on January 1st, the festival of Rozhdestvo (Christmas) on January 7th and the Stary Novy God (the old new year) on January 14th. Almost three weeks of festivities will help dispel the gloom of the economy, the darkness of the winter and the daily bulletins from the war in the south.
The complications arise from the use by the Orthodox Church of the old Julian calendar, 13 days behind its Gregorian equivalent. This, by the way, is why the "Great October Revolution" actually took place in November.
But things have changed. A new festival has begun to be celebrated by the more westernised of the "New Russians" who slavishly follow the dictates of fashion and refer to something called "Krismas".
In Russia, unlike elsewhere, Krismas comes but twice a year: December 25th for the New Russians and January 7th for those faithful to the Orthodox Church.
The western commercial Krismas is beginning to make its mark. Expensive presents are all the go with jewellery from Tiffany's of New York on display, without price tags, in one shop window on Tverskaya, the former Gorky Street.
Food stores are full of expensive goodies too. The average New Russian can get a large frozen turkey at Stockmann's Finnish department store for about £50 with the accompanying ham somewhat more expensive at £75.
Should one be fazed by the prospect of actually having to go to the shops to buy the Christmas fare, an alternative is provided by a virtual grocer called Cyber Grocer from whom you can order your food over the Internet to be delivered to your apartment door.
There is a risk involved here. The FSB, the successor to the KGB, has ordered all Russian Internet service providers to instal, at their own expense, a black box to monitor the public's email. Doing your shopping through the Cyber Grocer could, therefore, ensure the secret service literally knows what you have for your breakfast.
For the majority of the population, the new year remains the celebratory focal point. It is then that Grandfather Frost and the Snow Maiden visit the apartment blocks with bags of presents for the children. But why the Snow Maiden?
The answer may lie in Russian tradition. When visiting apartments on such festive occasions it is a natural reaction of Russians to offer the guest a glass of vodka against the cold of the winter.
Now, if Grandfather Frost had, for example, to visit 20 or 30 apartments he could very well be plied with 20 or 30 glasses of vodka. This is where the Snow Maiden comes in. It is her duty to ensure Grandfather Frost does not end up like the President of the Russian Federation.
When the children are asleep however, the Russians, like the Irish, are apt to bring in the new year with fairly copious libations. The difference is that they pay far less for it than we do.
Moscow is currently awash with a substance known as Shampanskoye (the name Champagne is forbidden by agreement with the EU).
Most of it is produced to a taste known as Polusladkoye or "semi-sweet" which Russians favour. But there is a rare production of bone-dry "Bryut" of an exceptionally high standard from grapes grown in the Crimea.
In the past week I managed to find some and bought a dozen bottles at £1.60 a bottle or £19 for the lot. The plan is that after my family comes in from Ireland we will gather with our Russian friends and what remains of the Shampanskoye on the Bolshoi Kammeny Bridge opposite the Kremlin to watch the fireworks usher in the new millennium.
After that it will be a short walk to Sally O'Brien's for hot whiskeys and a brisk walk home, hopefully in a romantic snowstrewn night evocative of Doctor Zhivago. Next morning we will face the reality of Y2K.
Seamus Martin can be contacted by e-mail at: seamus.martin@russia.com
