Yuri Entin: “The desk is from the museum, the wash basin is from the queen’s workshop”

The main children's songwriter of our country and the house in Dedenevo near Moscow seemed to be drawn from a cartoon: it is buried in a pine forest and flowers, and somewhere in the undergrowth Vodyanaya is watching the hosts for her - Yuri Sergeevich’s favorite hero. But from Antoshka he was tired and he does not plant potatoes, but he arranges a meeting with Livanov and Tukhmanov, before whom he is supposed to wash his hands in the washstand from ... Elizabeth the First.
Photo: Roman Kuznetsov

- This is an old house built in 1902. My wife Marina and I know both the builders and the foreman according to archival documents - it was built by the same people as the neighboring dacha academician Speransky. Before the revolution, the family was owned by the family of an influential priest. According to legend, a silver jug ​​with a treasure is buried somewhere here. His previous owners were looking for him: their grandmother always stood and looked if the workers were digging the ground. Marina also dug under the old stove in the annex, but found only a ring and a horseshoe.

Magic "Dzhulbars"

“After the clergy, this house was given to a peasant who sold it to the composer Vasilenko, who wrote the music for the film“ Djulbars ”. He bought it for a film fee, and the house was called “Dzhulbars”. Then his children and descendants lived here who were hard to leave here. The house is magical. Somehow our guest was a psychic who said that he should not be cleaned, but you can even meditate. You know the proverb: the horse did not roll. In the old days, a horse was let loose on the ground, and where the horse was rolling, a house was built there. And our house is on the right place, then the horse just lay. He has good energy, and people are attached to him. Once an old man came, who lived here, walked through all the rooms, and so he died: he came to say goodbye to the house. We will never part with him. And he got us so.

Sometime in 1983, my wife and I were driving on the road to Moscow from Dmitrov, and our acquaintances were in the back. And they offered us to rent their cottage on Trudovaya Street, which they robbed all the time in the winter. And we shot them three years in a row. It was a whole general's settlement, which arose when Stalin allocated two hectares of land to the marshals after the war, and just generals had one hectare each, and the captured Germans built houses of parts removed from Germany.Everything was done very soundly, in German, there were even fences with traces of our bullets. We asked the price, and it turned out that you need to live 500 years to earn such a cottage. To buy it, I sold all the furniture in Moscow, and I also lent money, and on the wall we had a list of more than 20 people to whom to return. I even sold my library of Soviet poetry, which I collected for a very long time. But still this money was not enough. And then my friend tells me that he found an amazing house in the village of Dedenevo. Wife Marina asked whether there is where to swim. And he said that there is - the channel Moscow - Volga. We decided to go at least for a swim, went into this garden, walked along the path, I turned around and felt that my wife was shocked, and I wanted to give her this house. Its price was many times less than that of the right German manor. And this was the wrong house: running, they were being torn through the forest. We could not buy it right away, as there were difficulties with registration, but even here we were lucky: the law just came out that canceled these difficulties.

On August 21, 1985, in my 50th anniversary, we signed an agreement to buy a summer house. The owners offered to take another dog, which had an old two-story kennel: depending on where the wind was blowing, she lay down one way or the other.We agreed, although I was afraid of dogs (I was bitten by myself as a child, and the fear remained), and especially this one, who sat on the chain, so growled and rushed. And then I boldly took the documents and showed them to Thomas that our house and ours were ours. And now we have Jessica, she is 9 years old, she is of puppy age.

Everything was decided by the house

- The house was repainted several times in more cheerful yellow-brown colors. Initially, it was gloomy green, and all the walls were in curtains, pictures. The owners left us some furniture because we were all in debt and we had nothing to buy our own. They left a desk, sofas, which the wife herself was overtightening, and now this huge chic table, which is being moved apart into the whole room. Then we added something, and the house itself decided what to do with the interior. We picked up antiques in the commission.

- There are three floors. Upper - with access to the roof. Lower - kitchen, bathroom and sauna. Previously, there was a small room with a stove, where the nuns lived, who helped around the house. At first, the wife thought that she should correspond to the way of life that they led. Marina began to pickle cabbage, to make liqueurs, behind the garage she had a garden where she planted everything.The main rooms are on one floor: dining room, living room, dressing room, son’s room, study and kitchen. All pictures are painted by our son Leney.

- We all the time something blooms: first one lilac, then another, Persian, now jasmine. And all this is very old: both trees and shrubs. Periodically, you have to cut, which I feel very sorry for. Especially dangerous are old birch trees. Maples are sown without end and grow new. If we had grown potatoes, then I would not have gotten married and would not have bought a cottage - I was already tired of Antoshka! Something grew in our country, but I forbade it, because our heroes live here - like Water Mist.

- The house is warm. Previously, there were six Dutch ovens. Now left alone in the living room. At first, Marina herself drowned these stoves with wood, but she had to run around the house, she was tired, some of the stoves did not work, and when they began to redo everything, they put the boiler, which she drowned with coal. And she drowned for about five years, so she started a stoker's cough. There was no gas in the village, but a pipe was buried on a large street, and I went to the gas trust to ask if I could carry gas alone, since there is a pipe. Allowed, but for the money.And I worked for two or three months, I found a specialist in this case who taught me what to do. The last bribe was given to the chief to let the gas. The pipes became warm and it was an incredible joy. We all got drunk, and I even sang with joy: “Steppe and steppe all around ...” Soul sang.



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