Mrs Harris Goes to Moscow – known as Mrs ‘Arris Goes to Moscow in the US – is the final one of these, published in 1974, an impressive sixteen years after the first in the series. He then worked for the National Board of Motion Picture Review, and after six months took a job as the motion picture critic for the New York Daily News.

Mrs Harris wins a trip to Moscow and invites her friend to accompany her which she does reluctantly.My daughter and I loved the film and I usually enjoy the original book version of the story even more. One day Fritha, a young girl from the nearby village, brings him a snow goose wounded by a gun shot. I think now, people in the Western world don't much think about Russia; then, it was a prevailing black cloud of possible nuclear ash; but Capitalism won the great ideological debate of the 20th Century, and the left developed a new obsession with the environment, and here we are. The years since first print and change of way of life in UK and Russia have not dimmed the story at all. Meanwhile, a series of bureaucratic misunderstandings in the vast Soviet machine lead to Mrs Harris and Violet coming to the attention of the KGB.

The classic satirical novel'Mrs Harris is one of the great creations of fiction - so real that you feel you know her, yet truly magical as well. I continue to be fascinated by the extraordinary range that Gallico has in his writing, from dark to frothy, poignant to funny, and (indeed) very good to not at all good. Harris wins a trip for two to Moscow and hopes to help one of her clients, who is in love with a Russian woman. I'm not a great fan of farce but this is reasonably well done and the craziness of the USSR certainly provides excellent opportunities for bizarre situations.This 1970s farce has a simple premise - cleaning lady Mrs Harris and her friend Violet win a trip to Soviet Russia. When, much to her surprise, she wins a trip for two beyond the Iron Curtain, she has no idea of the adventure that lies ahead of her. The indomitable Mrs Harris is a salt-of-the-earth London charlady who cheerfully cleans the houses of the rich. Night had supplanted dusk, lighting was in full blaze and she found herself looking upon such a wondrous illumination of coloured walls, towers, belfries, church steeples, some shaped like onions, others wearing what appeared to be Oriental turbans, all flung into the night sky and staggering to the imagination.