Back in 1965, the Soviets detonated a 140-kiloton atomic bomb, 200m underground.

Just over 50 years later, I stepped up to the shore of the pond that explosion created, got into my togs, and went for a swim. The pond had a very non-threatening name: Atomic Lake.

Drying off and warming up, some Russians got me a bit tipsy on vodka while one of them went to get his fishing rod. It didn't take long for him to drag up a radiant, mushy carp. They fried it up on a gas cooker, and we ate fish for afternoon tea.