Margery Pryce-Jones first showed up in a Russian orphanage in September 2000. The orphanage was completely ordinary, no better and no worse than many other similar institutions: with green walls, faded blankets on the beds and curtains bleached from too much sun on the windows. A typical orphanage, in which children without parents live, are happy and suffer and, possiblly, more correctly stated - are contained. And then, in the corridor, Margery was surrounded by children. They began to embrace the elegant woman from the faraway foreign country and speak to her about their joys and sorrows. She listened to them very attentively, although she did not know Russian at all, and smiled, delighted and happy One boy crawled up to her on his knees, called her "mama" and began to caress and hug this foreign guest, who could in no case be his actual mother.

At night in the hotel she was unable to get to sleep, and the voices of the orphan children who had called her "mama" tore at her heart. The next day, she went on an excursion to the Kremlin: Tsar-Pushka, the Bells of Ivan the Great, the famous Kremlin cathedrals. But she could not look at the wonderful frescoes and renovated churches. From every icon the sorrowful faces of the children, whom she wanted very much to help, looked out at her.

When she returned home to the city of Newport in South Wales, she was immediately caught up in the duties of life: work, family, children and grandchildren. It even seemed to her that the pain she had encountered in Russia had started to fade. But this was only apparent. The memory again and again returned of the green corridors of the children­s home. One morning after a sleepless night, she telephoned me and asked for help with an idea she had come up with. She had thought up the idea of doing something happy and bright for orphan children in Russian orphanages. In two weeks, Margery flew to Moscow, and we went to the children she wanted to help. We visited several orphanages in Moscow and Moscow Oblast, went to the Center for the Temporary Isolation of Minors with Rights Violations and met with deputies of the Moscow City Duma.

The deputy, the boss of the Center and the director of a school for orphan children - they were all glad to see Margery, they all had a whole list of problems and all had inadequate means for acquiring the kind of things that are important and necessary for the children. We received long lists of things about which the heads of the children­s institutions dreamed. These lists contained computers, sewing machines, equipment for athletic fields and even a swimming pool. Margery wanted very much to help these honest, kind people, who for a miniscule salary devote themselves to working with children.

Having returned to Great Britain, and understanding that her personal means would not suffice, she began to knock on every door. Margery succeeded in talking at a meeting of the British Medical Society for Cerebral Palsy and explained about the needs of Moscow Special Boarding School No. 17 for children with disabilities. She was able to persuade the members of this organization to donate to a swimming pool. In addition, friends of Margery in Wales gave personal computers, sewing machines and hand-made blankets and jumpers to the Russian children.

Margery dreamed that every child who is not being warmed by a parent­s love would receive a gift for New Year addressed personally to him or her. And soon she had 1,134 boxes of presents obtained from ordinary British families by the Welsh organization Christmas Child. In every package, different toys, sweets and warm things gathered together with the kind hands of the Englishwoman awaited each Russian youngster, and in every box there was a letter with Christmas greetings and a photograph of the family that was giving the present. Margery did not want to give identical, assembly line-produced presents, but rather gifts that would bring the warmth and joy of a family to every child.

At the end of November, Margery informed me that a delivery of New Year­s gifts, with a value of more than 26,000 pounds sterling, was ready for shipping to Russia, and she asked me to communicate the address of the recipient of this humanitarian aid.

I began to make calls those leaders of children­s organizations which had asked for help and, then, something happened that was completely unexpected by either Margery or myself. They all refused to accept the gifts they had requested from Margery. It turned that they had wanted to receive, not a container of presents, but money, which they themselves would spend for the sake of the children.

"You know what sort of a nightmare it is to have to deal with our customs," the deputy said to me. "There will soon be elections to the City Duma and I absolutely do not have enough time to concern myself with humanitarian aid. Of course, I promised to help with customs procedures, but just not now. Don­t threaten me. I really did not give a written promise."

"When we worked out the list of what our children need, and we thought that the British would send us money. We can buy ­all the best things for the children­ in Moscow ourselves," the director of the orphanage explained to me.

Even the head of a Detention Center for Children categorically refused to get involved with getting the packages through customs: "A friend of mine told me that it is senseless to get involved with humanitarian aid. You know what a problem it is to deal with our customs. So, apologize to the Englishwoman for the list we gave. If she had sent us money, it would be a different story."

After this I decided to look up the Russian charitable organization Brother of Compassion, which, as I knew, had earlier concerned itself with receiving and distributing humanitarian aid. However, the president of the organization said that their license to work with customs had expired and that they had only begun the process of getting registered for a new license. And so no help was to be found from them either.

Margery telephoned every day and was unable to understand why I would not give her the name and address of a recipient of this humanitarian delivery. Every day, I patiently explained to her that every possible recipient who had been asked had refused to accept the gifts, as they were afraid to get involved with "the terrible Russian customs." Margery calmed me down, saying that she had already paid all the customs expenses and that I was worried for no reason. "Everything will be O.K., just give me the name of a recipient." In the end, I persuaded Yevgeny Vikotorovich Fadeyev, the director of Kolumna Orphanage No. 37 for children with medical problems, in the Moscow Oblast city of Kolomna, to accept the Christmas presents.

And, on Dec. 7, 2001, an enormous load of New Year­s gifts for Russian children was sent from England to Moscow.

Here began a story quite similar to the New Year­s tale that has often been enacted in the Kremlin: Grandfather Frost hurries with presents to Moscow children, and on the path way he is blocked by frightening witches, swamp spirits and evil wolves. But the Kremlin story has always had a happy ending; the witches are reformed, the spirits evaporate into air, the wolves find gainful employment in a zoo and the happy children get presents for New Year.

But the story of the Christmas gifts from Great Britain was altogether different: Nothing was reformed or got evaporated. Beginning Dec. 8, Fadeyev began to haunt bureaucratic offices trying to get the gifts through, initially to the State Committee on Humanitarian Aid. It turned out that the committee meets only two times a month, and so it was necessary to provide them with the relevant documents two weeks before the appropriate date. Fadeyev did not have time for such a lengthy procedure, and he announced that he would not leave the State Committee offices until they had checked the documents. Understanding that it would be impossible to throw such a director out of the building and, probably, wishing to help children, the committee on humanitarian aid - violating all the rules - looked over his request and gave him all the requisite documents in only a week.

It was a real victory. But when Fadeyev arrived at the Noginsky branch of Kolomna customs, he realized that the worst was yet to come. The customs officers, being used to working with wealthy businesspeople and commercial deliveries, had neither the time nor the inclination to help with gifts for children.. The presents stayed at the Kolomna customs house from Dec. 21 all through the New Year­s and Christmas holidays and remained uncleared. School winter vacation ended, Old New Year showed up and Fadeyev­s constant trips to the customs officials continued without result. At the end of January, a worried Margery wrote a letter to President Vladimir Putin. And only in the middle of February did the Kolomna Customs permit the "New Year­s" presents to be picked up.

On Feb. 21, in Orphanage No. 27, there was a holiday. New computers sat like a decoration in the school­s interior, sewing machines were carefully unpacked and placed in the home economics classroom, the pool was sent on its long way to Moscow­s Special Corrections School No. 17, and the Kolomna children had a happy holiday with the unusual presents from Great Britain.

Each child opened his or her own package, looking with admiration at the English toys, embracing the stuffed bears and long-eared rabbits and looking at the photographs of the people who had wished them happiness and kindness in New Year of 2000. Margery Pryce-Jones came to the celebration from Great Britain; she was very happy, because, as is known, giving a present brings one no less joy than receiving it.

Thanks to the sluggishness of Kolomen customs, the New Year­s holidays for the children of Orphanage No. 27 stretched on for three months. "It­s nothing serious," Margery said. "Next time I will just try to send you New Year­s presents three months before Christmas."