the art of abundance

Checkout my new blog, the luminosity blog

2010-03-01T11:37:00.003Z

Much as I love blogger, I think it's time to move on to fresh pastures. I seem to have reached my image quota and to increase it would take much registering and faffing. there's too much such bureaucracy in this world as it is, so I shall from now on be writing a new blog called 'the luminosity blog,' which is attached to my main website, www.fionacampbell.biz. I look upon it as a small step towards growing up, something which has been on my to do list for a while. See you there!

Stop Press!

2010-02-05T10:56:00.003Z

I'm delighted to have been given 'Special Mention: Very Good to Excellent' in the International Photo.net competition 2009 for this photograph of a bride in a forest glade.

winter survival guide

2010-01-13T17:57:00.003Z

For the first winter since I don't know when, I don't feel depressed! I think it's the snow which makes for more light. I'm not good with long gloomy winters. The other things which are making this winter more bearable are a) love b) Diana Henry's cookery book, 'Roast Figs and Sugar Snow,', c) sledging on a proper sledge almost daily and d) the prospect of a week of winter sun in February. I know it's not eco friendly, but I can't get through the winter without it. Morocco, since you ask.

The Fiona Campbells are coming

2009-11-09T15:52:00.002Z

It may interest you to know that there are at least five Fiona Campbells currently working in the media. I am not fionacampbell.co.uk, nor am I photocampbell.com These are two other photographers and film makers. Nor am I the beautiful blonde Fiona Campbell who seems to be a model. There is also a mysterious Fionacampbell.com who owns that domain name. Anyway, I would hope that my style and approach is unique and that you can tell an original work by me without needing the name. One day we'll all get together and call ourselves an institution!

weddings

2009-09-08T11:47:00.009Z

Here are some images from the wedding of Nathalie and Eoin, two friends of mine who got married this August in a gloriously romantic wedding in Hertfordshire. You can view more on my website. www.fionacampbell.biz

Galilee

2009-07-03T10:50:00.003Z

Heading up to Nazareth Village we witnessed the phenomenon of Israeli shepherding. Israeli shepherds lead their sheep and it is impressive to watch. The shepherd shown in this photo is actually an actor and the sheep didn't know him very well. Normally they follow their shepherd closely wherever he goes. Hence Psalm 21: The Lord is my Shepherd, he leadeth me. If you have ever felt coerced in life, this is a good concept to think about. Only the butcher uses dogs to drive his sheep in Israel.

Dreamy, trippy times at the Dead Sea

2009-07-03T10:26:00.002Z

Visiting the Dead Sea was my son's favourite part of the holiday. There is something very spacey about the place, perhaps because of the low pressure. It was a buffer zone in our intense journey to Israel.

Bahai rainbow

2009-07-02T15:57:00.003Z

After Sinai, my son Leo and I somehow found ourselves booking tickets to Israel. After staying with a friend in Jerusalem and chilling out at the Dead Sea we journeyed up to the Bahai gardens in the north, which I was to photograph for a picture library. As soon as we arrived a thunderstorm broke out and I simultaneously realised that I had lost my wallet. When I look at this photograph I can't help feeling that the staircase down is rather heavy, whilst the rainbow is light and pointing upwards. Almost as if the two were in contrast with each other. I was interested by the Bahai gardens, which are kept almost maniacally clean. We were lucky to have a private guide and made our way down the mammoth number of staircases. The gardens are stunning - any religion that creates a spiritual garden has to get some brownie points...

Sinai

2009-06-25T10:21:00.004Z

Sometimes the path of life seems to take on a clearer quality, like a curving river that sweeps forward certainly. I have been in such a phase lately. It may have started with a visit to Sinai in Egypt last year. Above you see a Bedouin campfire in the desert. We sat on rugs and ate and chatted, watched by a thousand brilliant stars. Sinai is where Moses is believed to have received the Ten Commandments. I climbed up there with a group of tourists to the monastery. For a while I stood in the crowded church with its mish mash of incense burners, trying to pray. At last, with little sense of success I stopped to leave. As I was queuing for the way out I was caught in a beam of intense sunlight. In my mind it seemed as though God was saying, as he says to all of us, 'I love you. Come join my dance.' It was a moment of realising the immense freedom of love. The call is there, we choose whether to accept it.

Arctic Ibstone

2009-01-23T22:28:00.007Z

Guilt free Motherhood

2008-12-18T11:49:00.007Z

Last week a report was made by Unicef saying that we are putting our children at risk by putting them in full time childcare from a young age.

It must be the hundredth time I have heard mutterings that it is bad for children if their mothers work full time, but never once do I hear anyone actually discussing this calmly and rationally.

I cannot be the only mother who wants to know, 'Is it bad for my child to be in full time childcare?' 'Are there ways to be a working mother, stay sane and raise happy children, and if so what are they?'

The guilt is ridiculously counter productive and rather self indulgent and I think it's time we ditched it. Either we are damaging our children and we have to find a way back to being at home, or we're not. End of. Stop feeling guilty now!

In this case I turn back to the bible to Proverbs 31 and a slightly scary, very controversial passage called, 'The Wife of Noble Character'

10 [c] A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
12 She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
13 She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.
14 She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
15 She gets up while it is still dark;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her servant girls.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
27 She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
29 "Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all."
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
31 Give her the reward she has earned,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

OK, of course she doesn't exist. No one is perfect and it's a pity there is no equivalent version for husbands. The passage may be seen as an allegory of how we are all supposed to be in the Christian life, too. But it gives us a wonderful set of requirements to aspire to, and also takes away some of the neuroses of modern living. It's hard to live up to, has been misused by misogynists, but actually there is something comforting about this blueprint of family life.

For starters, things were simpler then. She doesn't fuss over half the neuroses that seem to trouble our society now. At no point does the perfect wife stress over whether she should be leaving her small children in full time childcare. She appears to have her own rather lucrative small business and a household with presumably a full time nanny, cleaner and cook! One of her big achievements is to make sure her children are properly clothed, fed and warm enough so that they don't fear the snow. Perhaps the nursery is down the road, and virtually part of her household anyway.

I find it enormously comforting that she clearly works part-time in a business that gives her much satisfaction. She is no stay at home mother making endless cup cakes and costumes but a valid, vital part of her society. I am not her, never will be, but I find her lifestyle inspiring. In these modern times she would probably be having a look at a website like www.jobs4mothers.com or http://www.mumandworking.co.uk/ to see if she could start a franchise while still picking the children up from school herself.

As a single mother of course my life is nothing like hers, but still I think there is something useful in this passage, and if the perfect housewife doesn't need to feel guilty about working, then neither do I!

As to the idea that nurseries are bad for children, I'd like to point out that even cows - that great symbol of motherhood - have nurseries too. If you watch a field of breeding cows and calves, one cow stays with the calves while the others go off for a day's grazing at the other end of the field. If it's good enough for them...

Of course this is a massive issue and here I am just scraping the surface. Mothers who work full time tell me that yes, it can work if you give up everything else bar work and motherhood and make sure that when you are with your children, you are with them 100%. My instinct, and it is an instinct that many mothers I know share, is that you need flexible working hours and a child friendly job when you are a mother. Come to think of it, a vineyard would be a great job for a mother because the children could help with the grape picking!

So I welcome the Unicef report which clearly raises some issues, if in a slightly alarmist way. We need to stop feeling guilty about working and sort out ways in which we can run our lives so that our children are nurtured and inspired, and we can work at child-friendly work that fulfills us.

Terrorism in Mumbai

2008-11-27T13:47:00.004Z

Yesterday I watched the press screening of Slumdog Millionaire, Danny Boyle's extraordinary tale of brutalised Mumbai street children. The brilliance of the cinematography was powerful, its violence intense and shocking. It told the tale of two Muslim children orphaned by riots, one of whom then goes on to win 'Who wants a millionaire,' so that he can win his childhood sweetheart.

A bomb exploded in a suitcase in the Taj Mahal hotel yesterday, where I might have been to do a travel piece on Mumbai to link in with the film. Terrorists attacked seven different locations in the city in an attack that is said to have been modelled on the Al Qaida attacks, but was actually carried out by the Deccan Mujahedeen, a formerly unknown militant Indian Islamic splinter group.

The press release invited me to, 'travel to Mumbai with Real Holidays and see sights and sounds from the film, ...[staying] at the Taj Mahal Palace and Towers, Bombay’s most famous building and ...[enjoying] onyx columns, hand-woven silk carpets, crystal chandeliers, a magnificent art collection and a dramatic cantilevered stairway.

Instead, because of a delay in commissioning by some of my editors, I found myself in the Soho screening rooms.

Watch Slumdog Millionaire (out January 9th) to understand something of the real Mumbai. My thoughts and prayers go out to that city now. As for me, I am so deeply deeply grateful that I was not at the Taj Mahal. There but for the grace of God.

Baby P and the trial by media

2008-11-14T22:25:00.002Z

With the rest of the country I am grieving the death of Baby P. Here I am in Haringey, looking out at the lights of the borough. My fingers are inches from clicking on the Sun's petition that 'ALL the social workers involved in the case of Baby P, including Sharon Shoesmith, Maria Ward and Gillie Christou... and that the doctor and health visitor involved with Baby P, Dr Sabah Al-Zayyat and Paulette Thomas, should also lose their jobs.'

I have already written to my MP demanding that she see that the correct people be dismissed without payouts.

But this is becoming a trial by media, and that is very, very wrong. We do not know exactly which social workers failed Baby P. Clearly somebody did. But I think we have to wait for the enquiry to do its job, not allow the sun to conduct a trial of its own. Otherwise we risk making Haringey social services even worse than they are already.

The horrible thought crosses my mind: How many other children are suffering and being abused here, not far from my house? What have we done to this society? What is this monster lurking at the foot of the hill? At the end of the day I suspect that the Sun are probably right. How could any decent social worker have allowed this to happen?

House of Sand

2008-10-10T11:33:00.002Z

'The Pope likens banking system to 'a house of sand' was a pretty outrageous headline for The Guardian to print. In fact the Pope said, 'He who builds only on visible and tangible things like success, career and money, builds the house of his life on sand...'

Which is entirely different, and which is exactly the point of this credit crunch. No one can tell what will happen next, who will be affected by this money cancer that is spreading through the world. Who could have predicted that children's charities and local councils would be affected by the predicament that Iceland finds itself in? And it is ridiculously oversimplified to blame this crisis on the banking system as a whole, or on hedgefunders.

There is no point being afraid: There will be winners and losers. What we all have to do is be sensible with our money and learn to value what really matters. Money is not bad; it is neutral, something that enables us to interact. But God is bigger than money and He knows how to give us good things. Anyone can turn to him and then we become trustafarians of the greatest family of all.

Meanwhile, the more money people have the more they seem to be panicking. The Telegraph seems utterly rattled, but we have to remember that the worst that can happen is that we lose all our money. That's all. No one has died of it, unless driven suicidal by gloom and doom headlines in the media. We need to get on with living, in order to know how to enjoy our inheritance when we find it in heaven.
And even the Vatican has stocks and shares...

journey to Narnia

2008-06-27T11:28:00.021Z

Sadly the photographs that were to accompany this article were stolen at Prague airport, along with my camera. The camera I can live without, but if anyone has my memory cards, please return them!

--

Prince Caspian has just opened in the cinema. The acting may be a little shaky but Narnia is spectacular. Adamson creates a brilliant depiction of Narnia by layering images of beaches in New Zealand with ancient Polish and Czech forests. I was lucky enough to be invited by the Czech and Polish tourist authorities to explore the areas where much of the film was created. And so I set off on a quest to central Europe to see if I could find Narnia.

First stop, Prague. Well - any excuse really. Forties London was filmed in Prague, as were all the studio shots in Prince Caspian as it happens. It's an unlikely double, but perhaps the new Gordon Ramsay restaurant, Maze at the Hilton was the draw for Adamson, and I salute his choice. I flew into Prague late on Thursday night and dined alone at the latter. It turns out that the best way to experience the impeccable combination of service and food that Maze offers is to eat alone. I spent a little time enjoying the male eye candy at the next table, but my attention was soon drawn away from them by Ramsay's exquisite menu. I'm sure Aslan would have approved.

Revived by dinner I resumed my search through the labyrinthine streets for the Charles Bridge, which floats in my mind from a trip in my student days as the most sublime place in Europe. The sun had gone down and the dark silk water glimmered with pearly lights from the distant palaces on the hill above. The unlit statues looked strange in the dark, their noble sinews twisting in agony as the endless couples made out between them. Wearily I made my way back to my hotel. So far the trip wasn't being particularly Narnian, but really that's just because CS Lewis never went to central Europe, and perhaps in another life there will be a chronicle of Narnia with a city like Prague in it. It certainly deserves it. I was sure that my quest would begin the next day.

The following day my guide arrived, a merry Polish girl and her wise, older husband. Guided by our trust magic device (OK, Tom tom), we headed to the beautiful Narnian enclave of Bohemian Switzerland in the north of the Czech Republic. Before I go any further let me just say once and for all that IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SWITZERLAND apart from that a Swiss artist liked it and christened it Bohemian Switzerland because it reminded him of his homeland. Anyway, what you need to know is that it's a sweet part of fairyland. The architecture is a quaint mix of hobbit like cottages, German, Czech and Habsburgh architecture.

My home was to be the pension Nastodolci. Early the next morning we rose and trekked through the fantastical sandstone rock formations and alpine forests. Up, up, we climbed. It was steep going, and I began to wonder if we would ever reach Prince Caspian in time. I noted that Mirza has chopped down half the trees, with a bit of help from acid rain and the nasty North American Panus Strobus, introduced in the 19th century which kills everything. At last we came out at a high place where there was a little mountain hut, perhaps built by Narnians, and there we could see a great swathe of Narnian territory below us.

On the way we glimpsed roe deer. Vaclav Banka, my patient forestier guide, advised me that there were also black storks, goats, lynx, wild boar, but they kept well hidden. The woods were a delight - strewn with foxgloves. The trees did not dance, though. Perhaps they knew that Miraz was near, and that people no longer believed. I wish I could show you the pictures, but Miraz's sentries pilfered my camera.

The next day we continued our journey to Aslan's How, I mean Poland, along the river Kamenice. We stopped to paddle our feet in the river between Rvnadace and Chribska. Snow White and six dwarves were carved into the rock face outside Rvnadace. It was all very relaxed, lush, abundant, sleepy. A little enclave of lush bliss.

Walking along from Hrensko we made our way along the gorge, enjoying our time in Narnia of the plashing glens. A little boat took us downstream through the outlandish rock formations, glistening with moss and water. An old rope hung down over the river. We gave it a great tug and out gushed a large fountain. Another Narnian mystery. Travelling on we journeyed the several hours' walk to the Pravicka natural bridge.

The next day we travelled across the border to Poland in search of the ominous table mountains. My guide and I trekked through the Gory Stolowe forests, carefully avoiding snakes, and delighting in the sun filled groves and wild woods. Brooks bubbled through the landscape. At times the rocks were so narrow that we could barely squeeze through. At the top we were able to take in the whole magical landscape once more. It is a beautiful part of the world with fields of buttercup, rolling green and purple hills and a wonderful diversity of deciduous and alpine trees.

That night we stayed in the Hotel Montana Verde, which had a magical Narnian pool and pool which bubbled furiously We drank Zoladkowa to give us courage for the quest.

More gentle lush hills and thickly fertile flower strewn plains stretch out around us. We pass by magical lakes, and I am sure there are river gods within them although they do not actually reveal themselves to us. Sniezka (Snow White) mountain towers above us as we climb the foothills of the Karkonsze mountains. The mountain might be Czech or Polish, both lay claim to it and the border is easy to miss. We pass through the beautiful ski resort of Szlarska Poreba and see the old man of the mountains. He kidnapped a lady he was in love with and told her he would let her go when she had counted all the vegetables in his garden. This being the fertile and much fought over Sudetanland, I'm sure that took her a good while. I'm also quite sure that Aslan would not have approved.

Szlarka Poreba is a delightful chalet town, easy-going with 300 km of bike trails to explore. It has a rope walk playground built amongst the trees and for a moment I think I glimpse Lucy and Edmund fooling about on it.

The food in this part of the world is very Narnian: bread pie with soup inside that floats with delicious pieces of meat, egg and spices. It is called Zurek. Over the trip I eat far, far too much of it. I would say one bowl a year was probably about the right measure.

From Szlarska Poreba it is a 25 minute walk through the forests to the Karkonsze Falls, where Lucy feel down the gorge. Lucy saw Aslan on the other side of the gorge but her siblings did not, and refused to agree to follow him up the gorge. It made more sense to go down the gorge. Eventually in a statement of faith she threatened to go alone and they were all forced to follow her. Then she found a hidden way down the gorge. We wind our way down and enjoy the cool feel of the gushing water and the wet rocks.

'The ghost of the mountains sighs when guests are leaving', my guides tell me. A moment later I feel my stomach lurch as the road dips sharply. 'That was him sighing,' they chuckle. 'We call it death corner.' All part of the Polish sense of fun.

In the distance we can see Sniezka Mountain (Snow White or Snowball Mountain). Legend has it that Princess Kussegussole (ten points to the person who can tell me how to spell that.) was too picky. She announced that she would only marry the knight that could ride his horse around the outside of her castle's parapet. Many knights went to their death, and then at last one succeeded. Legend has it that she was so distraught that she threw herself from the tower and only the imprint of her backside remained on the ground. Whether she was distraught because he would marry her or would not marry her depends on the teller.

I probably ought to tell you about Stara Hatavelnska, the old walance cottage that we visited. But frankly it's œuite weird and I am simply grateful that I missed the strange pagan ritual where journalists are forced to drink a concoction that erases all memory of their visit. The walance sect are an ancient tribe who specialise in excavating stones and crystals. Upstairs their strange rambling house has cases and cases of gigantic crystals. Downstairs is a series of dark tunnels. They're a bit freaky, with skeletons and boar heads peeking out. You half expect someone to suggest drawing up the fire and preparing the dark magic, and for the White Witch to make an appearance any minute. It's pretty Narnian, but not in a good way. Also, they really need to dust all those crystals.

That night we stay at the Caspar Hotel, a gracious Narnian dwelling (apart from the thin walls!) with mad filigree ironwork entwining the walls and graceful arched ceilings. It is in the spa town of Cieplice.

One of the great things about the film Prince Caspian is the sight of Ben Barnes galloping on his black thoroughbred. If you want such an experience yourself, and I can't guarantee any Barnes lookalikes I'm afraid, then you might try the Gostar Riding STables. 0048756495410

We drove on through the amazingly diverse countryside, shttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifwifts darting among the trees. It is gentle country, not far off traditional Enlgish hills but not quite. There are blue mountains in the distance, lakes and profusions of purple, yellow and white flowers and grasses. Tractors with ancient rusting ploughs toil their way across the land. And then we see a circus performer from the local Cyrkland out for his morning constitutional on a monowheel.

This Polish quirkiness is never far away from you in Lower Silesia. I feel I have entered a slightly Pythonesque trip when my guide takes me to the Western City, a perfect frontier town builty by a local politician, Pokoj. The sparkling manageress Izabella Dembowska (I have yet to notice an ugly Polish woman, and I think I saw one beautiful Polish man in the entire trip - what's that about?) They offer rodeo riding, lassoing, children's courses, canoeing, , panning, tipis, little trains for children... in fact everything you can think of connected with the wild west. It is bizarre to find it here in Poland, but somehow it fits.

We take the bobsleigh at Carpacz, which sweeps us round the blue-green hillside at a knee weakening speed. Carpacz is a large hillside town with Germanic houses and an ancient wooden church on the summit. We eat at U Ducha Gor, a carved wooden mountain chalet with leaf shaped chairs and, of course, a revolving wooden statue of the Ghost of the Mountains. It's a buzzing town, popular with skiers in winter. Some of it feels quite Narnian, the rest is good fun anyway.

That supper we have dinner in the gold Gdansk room of the Paulinium Palace, a castle in the woods on top of a hill. It would be a good place for a council of state for the Narnian kings.

At the end of the evening we stroll through the beautiful Jelena Gora, a square with arched cloisters and Habsburg architecture painted multi colours. Then I say goodbye to my guide - another one is showing up tomorrow.

Can you only fall in love so many times? No, it seems there is endless space to fall in love. And I have to admit I fell a little bit in love with my guide, Kuba, who was waiting for me the next morning. He was the first good looking Pole I have seen. Normally they look gaunt and haggard with mousy colouring, but there he was: blonde and tanned and toned and fun. I could feel my journalistic integrity wobbling.

Kuba and I checked out a nice campsite called the Stawy Podrzynskie, which has pleasant wooden chalets and is close to the woods. It's difficult to camp away from campsites in Poland, though you could always try.

We drove through beautiful floral countryside with fields of buttercups and rolling green and purple hills. This is the heart of the Sudetanland, the much fought over area that is the key to central Europe. Control the Sudetanland and you control central Europe, because the mountains form a natural defence and border, and it was before the Great war a very rich industrial area with fertile farmland.

Kuba takes me for a delightful walk through the wonderfully Narnian forests of the Gory Stolowe national park. 'Watch out for snakes,' he says. Up through the forests we go, expecting to see a dryad or a naiad at any moment. Then out onto another stunning vista, and back into the eery sandstone Table Mountains. Kuba twists and turns through the narrow passages and I follow.

We wander through the field where Adamson filmed the battle scene for the film. It's just a field, I wouldn't bother too much. But if you really want to see it it's at Kudowa Zdroj, if my notes are to be believed. I was a little smitten by Kuba so they get a little thin at this point...

That night we are given adjacent rooms at the Hotel Montana Verde with its amazing pool and manic turbo charged whirlpool. A certain amount of bracing Zocadkowa vodka was sampled. Also the sweeter Charlotka that I suspect is actually calpol. And so to bed. Reader, I did not marry him...

Kuba was adamant that I should fly out of Wroclaw, so I pass on the tip to you. There was some problem with the press tickets so I didn't make it there but I'm told by Kuba that it's a great place. There is the multidisciplinary Wroclaw Non Stop Festival which is something like Edinburgh with something going on every day, and Ryanair fly there. It's a beautiful, underdeveloped city because 2 generations ago the population was forced to swap with that of Lvov. The trauma of relocation has held the city back but these days it benefits from the resulting sense of openness that comes from being entirely made up of second generation immigrants. Or so Kuba said...

Polish hospitality is such that if you go to someone's house you will be offered everything they have. When they have a party it has to be a big party.

I say goodbye to Kuba and we exchange a momentary glance of friendship. I leave with the memory of Poland's kiss, nice and a little wild. Kuba tells me to watch Dark Blue World. I've seen a little of Narnia, dancing among the countryside, and a little of the Sudetan spirit. It was a great trip.

Calm in the Storm

2008-04-29T14:31:00.009Z

above: the canals of Bruges

The media headlines are not very reassuring at the moment. If they are to be believed, the world is spiralling towards a crisis of climate change, wars, global economic meltdown and food shortages. But it strikes me that this crisis is being made a great deal worse by the atmosphere of panic that is radiating around. We have got to stay calm and keep our heads, do everything we can to avert crisis and ultimately pray. The old adage, 'Pray as if everything depends on God, act as if everything depends on you,' still applies. I suggest that anyone affected by said media panic heads off to Bruges (by environmentally friendly Eurostar, of course), or at the very least watches In Bruges the movie. You could also lie down and listen to the Now Show (which thank heavens is available as a podcast via iTunes) and wait till the feeling goes away, because that might be our best chance of making everything work out alright. Because God is bigger than all our problems, and well able to quiet the storm if we ask Him.

above: child playing in the playground where Colin Farrell has his moment of revelation in the film, 'In Bruges'.

I should also like to point out that fond as I am of the British broadcasting service you should never believe what you hear on the BBC. That especially goes for the weather reports, which today predicted terrible storms. My son's grandmother cancelled her day out with him. Which is a pity, because it has been sunny most of the afternoon, and there is still no sign of any storm. There you see? It's a metaphor - it's probably all fine really, just a bit of media exaggeration...

above: Bruges in spring

Here's what I wrote about Bruges for The Telegraph.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/europe/belgium/1586373/In-Bruges%2C-with-chocolate-and-Colin-Farrell.html

above: one of the famous Bruges swans

That time of year

2008-03-17T14:38:00.003Z

the magnolias are just coming out in Waterlow Park and they are sublime.

Happiness

2008-02-28T09:36:00.003Z

The Guardian: Think Positive

Wellington College now hold controversial happiness classes, where pupils are taught the ingredients of happiness. Speaking as someone who went to one of the sister schools to Wellington, I can say that public school pupils probably need happiness classes more than many children. The focus is so often on academic achievement, not other kinds of achievement. Of course, I guess it is all in the way the classes are taught, but I admire the headmaster of Wellington for his innovation. Happiness is a complex business, one that the public school I attended was pretty much devoid of.

Snowdrops

2008-02-08T11:57:00.000Z

My mother brought me snowdrops yesterday, picked at home in Oxfordshire. There was something so clean and touching about this little bouquet of pure white innocence. The Nag, a wonderful website which persuades you to do something for the environment every month, sent me a nag to remind me that we should not buy red roses in February. They are flown across the world, the people who grow them are underpaid, they are immersed in chemicals and grown using water in a country that does not have enough water as it is. The Nag suggested that we send each other Scottish grown snowdrops through the post, wrapped in moss, that we can replant in the garden to flower every year.

There is something rather romantic about a beautiful bulb of snowdrops that flowers every year. Still, snowdrops might not give exactly the message that you were hoping for. They're just not passionate, are they? Luckily if you click on the word Snowdrops above you can read all about the Nags excellent collection of organic and fair trade flowers. Also, if you click on the link below you can go to The Nag's selection of ethical flower sellers. However, in case anyone is reading this who needs to know, I would be delighted to receive snowdrops on Valentine's Day, providing I also get a large bush of English red roses in the spring. OK?

http://thenag.net/valentines/guilt-free-flowers

Welcome, Tony

2007-12-22T21:00:00.000Z

There's something rather special about Tony Blair being confirmed into the Roman Catholic Church on this Christmas night. Somehow it seems rather miraculous. It reminds me of my own conversion ten years ago. It makes me feel glad for him, because he has discovered how special the theology of Catholicism is. And it makes me feel proud, because its nice to have someone (even a slightly unpopular former PM) endorsing one's decision. And it also makes me feel sad for him, because I know what a tough place the Catholic Church can be. Most of all I feel that deep, intense happiness that you just can't explain, because it is joy. My prayers are with him tonight. My hope is that he will be a great light in the Church.

Tony Blair

2007-11-26T15:53:00.000Z

It is refreshing to see Tony Blair talking about faith. As he says, 'Mention God and everyone thinks you are a nutter.' And he is right. There is an insane hush around the subject of religion in the media and politics.

Still, it will always be a mystery to me how Tony Blair and I can apparently both be Roman Catholics, when I was one of the 2 million or so that took to the streets to express our disagreement with the war in Iraq. Who knows what the eventual decision was in the upper echelons of power, whether Blair even had a choice about going to war in Iraq. (Never, never, never get out of step with America, as Churchill said.) But I was fairly sure that God was telling me to be amongst that grey river of people who drearily trod through London on that cold day. Which is why generally people in power don't mention their hotline to God. They may well believe that God is telling them to do something, but they know that they are fallible and that they might have got it wrong. There is something innately unhinged about someone who expresses absolute confidence in their ability to hear the Divine Being and act on His wishes. Did Jesus intend me to march? Did he intend Blair to go to war? Who knows. I wouldn't dream of pronouncing on the matter.

So when (if) Blair does at last enter the Catholic Church I shall be glad to welcome him. He may not be particularly truthful but his heart is in the right place I feel. I shall still not be pro war, but that is one of the great strengths of Catholicism - to unite people of widely disparate viewpoints through the institutionalised miracle of Christ's Eucharist. We are all one body because we share in the body and blood of Christ, not because we voted for Blair.

the scandal of grace

2007-11-21T10:47:00.001Z

copyright Fiona Campbell 2007

Over the last few weeks the leaves have vaunted their outrageous colours. This abundant beauty is almost scandalous in its unnecessity. In the bright sunshine it is as though jewels hung from the trees. It reminds me of the 'scandal of grace' which Bible Alive enjoy highlighting and which I spend much of my life depending upon. the scandal of grace is 'that God's love, mercy and compassion can overwhelm and convert even the most hardened of sinners creating in them a new spirit and a new heart. God's grace bestows dignity - the dignity of being a child of God, for that is what we all are. We are saved and justified because of God's lavish, unmerited and undeserved grace.'

copyright Fiona Campbell 2007

We don't do anything to earn or merit Jesus' love. It is unearned wealth - when we accept it we become trustafarians. 'But God's mercy does not discriminate; God has no favourites. God's grace is available in the places of greatest sin and darkest confusion.' What we have to do is seek out Jesus and ask. And receive.

copyright Fiona Campbell 2007

Moon Philosophy

2007-10-29T10:40:00.000Z

Driving home last night I stared up at the moon and wondered what it's all about. You know, life. The excellent consumer parody 'This Age We're Living In', came into my mind. The writer takes as his premise,

'Only two big facts are known for certain: you are on a large spinning rock hurtling through space at about 67,000 mph, and one day your body is going to die. Will a new pair of shoes really help?'

I wondered to myself why? Why is there a large glowing moon up there? It seems likely to me that the universe was created, so why put the moon up there? It just seems so random to have a great white moon floating up in the sky somehow. And then it struck me that perhaps it was for the sheer joy of the thing, the Creator at play. Why not?

I thought too about a fifteen year old I had spoken to earlier that day who was distressed. She had been to a party and a gang known as MBP had crashed it. Apparently there are large teenage gangs which roam London crashing parties and causing trouble. They had glassed a girl outside and then the police were called and the party broke up. She didn't say so, but she seemed quite shaken by it. It's a tough time to be a teenager.

Perhaps this world is a bit like that party. Made joyfully, for fun, but then crashed by trouble makers. Eventually the party has to stop, but I hope there will be another, exclusive party afterwards for all the nicest guests. Whatever happens, make sure you're on the guest list for that one.

On the wastelands of the dreary A406 I turned a corner. Above me the moon glowed bright. It looked rather like an old man making a face.

Christmas shopping

2007-10-10T09:03:00.000Z

In recent times I am increasingly alarmed by the consumer frenzy which appears to be gripping us. I am suffering from marketing-itis, where I find the endless screaming exhortations to buy are starting to drive me mad. For Christmas I am considering hiding in my local charity shop and taking a leaf out of my Estonian friend's book. 'Fion,' she told me solemnly last Christmas, 'in Estonia we only buy people presents that they actually NEED.'

On Another's Sorrow

2007-09-18T13:20:00.000Z

Of late I have been so busy and so tired that there has been very little time in the day when I can honestly sit with God. The other night I read this poem, part of Blakes 'Songs of Innocence,' and I realised that it is true; God suffers with us when we suffer. I spoke to God, telling him of the things that were making me unhappy, and as I listed each one it was as though it became an angel's feather. The hard road that I have felt I was treading of late became a soft place. After I had shared my sorrows a sense of deepest joy shone through my heart like sunlight through the cracks in a wooden shack. The wooden shack is this world: One day we will all be able to walk out of this world's door into the drenching brilliance of heaven.

poison paint

2007-08-15T09:41:00.000Z

(above) I thought the abundant pink tulips in Wangfujing Dajie, the main shopping precinct in Beijing, were amazing but I got a chill when I looked closely and realised they were all plastic.

--

As a businessman hangs himself, or is hanged, parents across the world must be worrying about their children's toys. How many Chinese toys are there in my son's room? How many of them were painted with toxic paint? This morning I found myself eyeing his plastic scoop digger and wondering whether the paint was just a little too bright. With large numbers of Dora the Explorer, Polly Pocket and Thomas the Tank engine toys affected, there can be few parents in the country who haven't got a poisonous toy in their children's toy box.

I'm tempted to revert to buying all my toys from myriad.co.uk and such. These are beautiful, fair trade, non-toxic, hand made wooden toys painted with water-based paint and finished with natural oils or shellac.

There are lots of good reasons to use wood, which is both more hygienic and takes less of a toll on the environment than plastic. Wood stimulates the child’s senses with its texture and variations in colour. Wood smells good and has its own temperature. Bacteria cannot reproduce on wood. When wooden toys break they can be fixed. And lastly, wood is recyclable. Myriad building bricks are by far the best I have ever seen.

At the same time it would be ridiculous to ban all Chinese products from the home because of this. 80% of the world's toys are made in China, and so there are bound to be more safety scandals there than anywhere else. The culture that I experienced in China was one of precision and exactitude. People took enormous pride in their work, and did not brook with flaws. The soul of China has great sensitivity and subtlety, but sometimes that is obscured by the headlong rush for development and maximum profit.

If there is one thing which could cause problems in China it is that in the quest for maximum output people are worked into the ground. I remember seeing an air hostess who was so tired I thought she might faint, and that was at the start of the flight. Workers are forced to work ridiculously long hours for a pittance. China's overproductivity is bound to cause problems because it is unsustainable, both in human and environmental terms.

What haunts me is that so many people in China said to me, 'There are too many people in China.' I believe that this is a mistaken and deeply dangerous belief, because it leads to the idea that people are expendable. Every human life is precious, and we need to accept the people we have on earth, and balance the books as best we can. More than most countries China needs to learn the value of human life over material gain, and that it is better to do a little well than a lot badly.

The Age of Innocence

2007-08-09T18:59:00.000Z

This evening I am thrilling to the news that Carol Grant is alive and well. For my eighteenth birthday my mother commissioned me my very own ballgown from a lady in Oxford. I can remember her shop well because it was near my house and my friends and I used to cycle past and admire the sleek, magical dresses in the window. It was a huge surprise when my mother offered to buy me a made to measure dress from the almost otherworldly shop, because the prices were otherworldly too.

Grant made me the most beautiful kingfisher blue and lilac shot silk dress, long enough to look like a princess, short enough to dance in. It was glorious. I wore it to my eighteenth birthday party on a boat, and danced with my beautiful Vicomte boyfriend all night. I danced in that dress in chateaux all over France, and it reminds me of that romantic, innocent time.

Carol Grant moved away and I heard nothing of her for several years until this evening, when I found her shop on the internet. She now has a shop in Shrewsbury, and as far as I can understand one in Oxford. She is the best designer I have ever known.

un vrai hotel Parisien

2007-07-26T19:04:00.000Z

My son and I have just returned from an epic train odyssey across Europe, staying on organic farm Spannocchia. My family holiday skills need honing, I have to say, as I could now do with another holiday to recover.

The best night of our 3 week holiday was spent at the Caron de Beaumarchais in the Marais, Paris. It is a great hotel. Expensive, but it evokes all the magic of Paris. For proof, have a look at the email I received from them.

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Dear Mrs. Campbell,

We are pleased to tell you that we found your son's teddy bear in the room, but the taxi had just driven off.

Please advise us as to what to do, since we realise how important this might be to your son.

Yours sincerely,

La réception.

A sojourn in the past…
A perfect location in the heart of Paris, 2 steps from Notre-Dame, Picasso Museum and Place des Vosges, in its most fashionable area, the lively old Marais.
The hotel with its 19 charming rooms evokes a private house of the 18th century, in the time of Beaumarchais and Mozart.

HOTEL CARON DE BEAUMARCHAIS
12, rue Vieille du Temple 75004 Paris
Tel: 331 42 72 34 12 - Fax: 331 42 72 34 63
http://www.carondebeaumarchais.com

Cultural Week

2007-06-16T12:35:00.000Z

Last week I decided to do what Julia Cameron, author of the inspiring creativity manual 'The Artist's Way' calls fill the well. Creatively if you are just giving out and never putting anything back in, after a certain amount of time the well dries up. The same can be said to be true of the spiritual life, although the methods for filling the well are slightly different. The important thing with creative replenishment is to listen to what your heart of hearts really wants to do. Cameron describes this as an artists date with yourself, where you take yourself out and treat yourself. I suppose with spiritual replenishment the trick is to spend lots of time in prayer. Both involve a rest or maybe a retreat from the daily grind. Anyway, in this creative replenishment mission I declared cultural week and set aside a whole week of holidays to go and visit all the art exhbitions, films, music, theatre, ballet and other cultural events that I wanted to. This being London of course I only managed to do about half of everything that was on my list, but it was the most amazing experience. Now I feel that my imagination is once more fertile. I can't think why it didn't occur to me before to spend a holiday in my home town - just as inspiring as going abroad and far less expensive. Not to mention the virtuous eco glow of not having flown.

Melon season

2007-05-25T14:16:00.000Z

It must be melon season, as Ocado tell me they are willing to sell them to me slightly more cheaply than usual. It puts me in mind of my great melon experience, which took place in the south of France when I was nineteen. It was summer and I was deeply in love with my first boyfriend. He invited me to stay with his grandmother at her house in Gaillac, a rambling manor house right in the village. His best friend, Eric, came along and there were several children there too, who were cousins of Gerard. These latter would pitch furious battles against Gerard and Eric, who seemed to think it their duty as older boys to be excessively disciplinarian with the children. Every day in the great stone dining room we were given deep orange Charantais melons. One day as we sat down to our melons I observed to the two boys, Gerard and his best friend, Eric, that I loved these wonderful French melons!

Eric had already tucked into his melon, sitting where he always sat on the left hand side. I normally sat on the right, but today I had changed places and was sitting in the middle. 'Of course,' he observed conversationally, 'there are those who serve the melon with salt.'

Gerard began to eat his and didn't react. 'With salt?' I exclaimed bemusedly. 'How bizarre!' Then I took a mouthful of my melon and felt the inch of salt sank into my tongue.

The children, revenging themselves for some evil dealt out by the two boys had salted their melons. I was not their enemy, so they had left my melon free. But Gerard and I had changed places. I can confirm that salt is not a good thing to eat with melon, but that those southern French melons were the finest I have ever tasted.

A National Obsession

2007-05-15T18:50:00.000Z

Just occasionally the British find something that unites us. Princess Diana's death was one example. The story of Madeleine McCann's disappearance is another. I wonder why this particular case has got to us so much? Unashamedly I admit to being as obsessed with it as everyone else - I think it is partly to do with being a parent. The surrealism of arresting Mr Murat, essentially on the basis that a journalist found him 'spooky' overwhelms me. Surely having a glass eye and weirding out a Mirror journalist are not grounds for arresting someone?? I love the story of the villagers of Hockering standing up for Mr Murat, having consulted on the matter in the local pub.

The McCann's have bravely stated that they believe Madeleine is alive and being cared for. That is a statement of faith. In my experience, God never fails to honour a statement of faith such as that. I am ashamed to admit that I have feared the worst for this little girl, because if we believe that God loves us and hears our prayers then we cannot doubt that He is taking care of Madeleine wherever she is.

Someone once lectured me on the importance of praising God for everything, and especially for the bad things in life. It was brave of him to lecture me as I was outraged by the suggestion. And I am eternally grateful to that brave friend for setting me straight. What I have learnt is that if you praise God even for the events that really seem to have no upside, then God always brings good out of them. It is as though you were turning those events over to the power of the Kingdom, and then they become for the good. My friend gave me a long theological explanation for why this is so, but I'm afraid such things do not stay in my head. Enough to remember always to praise God even when you do not feel like it, and let Him work.

I think that is in a way what the McCann's are doing, and I admire them for it. But I just wish Madeleine would be returned to them.

I think this outpouring of emotion - stoked though it may be by media pragmatism - may be seen to reflect God's love for every one of us, His concern for every hair on our head. Madeleine's distinctive pupil reminded me of a tear for someone who has slipped through the cracks. Over the past fortnight we have witnessed an outburst of faith. It symbolises the human and ultimately divine desire for everyone to be loved enough. Madeleine has gone unnoticed, and deep within us we cannot bear that. By saying that she matters so much we want to express the truth, which is that everyone matters enormously.

Benn's really unsleazy sleaze scandal

2007-05-14T19:12:00.000Z

What a non news story this was. Hopefully (though I doubt it) we are so used to this kind of journalism that we are capable of reading a news story properly and seeing this for the ridiculous fire free smoke screen that it is. In fact it is a perfect example of an article so padded that in the end it makes a lot of accusations without having much in the way of facts to back them up. What the story actually says is that Hilary Benn's department has a tiny contract with a company that Benn has a piddling amount of inherited shares in. Does anyone really think that if Hilary Benn wanted to make money out of Dfid he would waste time on such a pathetic interest as this? Come on! Let's have some real news.

Not so safe countries

2007-05-11T10:09:00.000Z

As the horror of the Madeleine McCann case drags on, today I spoke to Homayra Seller of Innocents in Danger charity, a Unesco charity, about her work protecting children from paedophiles. She described how she pulled out of setting up a branch in Portugal after encountering too much corruption and 'obstructions'. 'It is a case of looking left when you should look right,' she said of certain countries and their attitude to the problem. Which countries are more vulnerable to being exploited by paedophilies? Her answer was a blunt list, 'Portugal, Greece, Madeira, Holland, Belgium and certain parts of Italy, namely Milan and Naples. Those are the countries that are more easily exploited by predatory paedophiles. Parents should understand that there is a demand for European children. And don't leave your children alone in the bedroom. Just don't do it.'

How long was it really between when Madeleine was last seen by her parents and when the borders were closed?

That said we have to balance the risk of with realism. How likely is it that your child will suffer the fate of Maddy? In the last five years, just 11 under fives have gone missing in the UK. It is of course 11 too many, but paranoia is also a danger. I hardly need add that my thoughts and prayers are with Madeleine and her family.

the art of weather

2007-05-10T08:10:00.000Z

Library of Water (Vatnasafn) is an art installation in the town of Stykkisholmur on the western coast of Iceland. It is an observatory style room in the former library where constellations of glacial water from Iceland's glaciers fill glass columns. Natural light refracts through the columns to create a kind of lighthouse where the light plays with words inscribed on the floor that describe the state of the weather or the mood of the viewer. Through the columns watery visions of the town outside can be seen. It is a brilliant fusion of environment, art and community; both an art installation and a space for community reflection and activity from writers' readings to yoga classes.

The installation's catchphrase 'You are the weather' is more alarmingly true than it first seems. It was reported in the media recently that it really does rain more at weekends, because all the pollution builds up during the week and brings a downpour on Sunday. Our polluting lifestyles that cause the bad weather. And Our Lady of Knock is reported to have told the Irish, among other things, that if they prayed more the weather would improve.

the best news I have read in years

2007-04-28T10:57:00.000Z

http://environment.guardian.co.uk/climatechange/story/0,,2067618,00.html

The UN are producing a report to say that we do, after all, have the knowledge and money to stop global warming. So let's have no more apocalyptic warnings. Let's just get on with it. The measures that are required will mean lifestyle changes for all of us, but these are achievable and will bring direct rewards of their own. The biggest thing we can all do to prevent climate change? Vote for a government that will do something about it.

China's eco footprint is a big concern that is often voiced in the media. I am comforted by the thought of the beautiful actress, Gong Li, who is petitioning the People's Congress to do something about China's eco footprint. If the woman who makes every Chinese man's eyes light up wants climate change sorted, there is hope!

playing in the tulips

2007-04-23T19:10:00.000Z

Gong's places

2007-04-18T19:39:00.000Z

Just touched down from an adventure in Beijing, where I was interviewing Gong Li for The Telegraph travel section on her Beijing. Slightly awkwardly, Gong Li didn't actually appear to like Beijing very much (although she didn't actually say that). Her ideal day off was to stay in bed with her labrador and watch DVDs! Still, she does have good taste in restaurants, as you may find out if you read the article. Luckily Chinese food is not overly fattening, because I have just done a gastronomic odyssey of Beijing. Ordering food in China is an art form - I saw grown men sweat when I asked them to order for me. You eat cold food, then hot food, and it's all about having a delicate balance of flavours, textures and temperatures. And Jasmine tea.

My most memorable meal in China was eaten in a humble eatery that seemed to resemble a garden centre: A large glasshouse complete with rockery and waterfall just near the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall called Xin Shuang Quan Restaurant. An organic restaurant no less! (The Chinese do love their waterfalls). Cherry, my guide, ordered a perfect feast. First we had Jian cold garlic beef, then tomato and egg soup, followed by chicken and chestnuts, pork with celery and pak choi with mushrooms. There was also a steamed corn bun stuffed with slightly ropey vegetables. It wasn't gourmet food, but it was a beautifully layered experience of tastes and the company was good. The food was wonderful at Jing, the Peninsula Hotel East meets West restaurant, but somehow I can never feel entirely inspired by a meal eaten alone, no matter how delicious.

above and below: the Great Wall is said to be like a dragon

flashing quicksilver across the mountains.

Chinese magnolia

2007-04-11T09:34:00.000Z

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'Curse of the Golden Flower'

2007-03-21T12:08:00.000Z

The Art of Abundance is writing about 'Curse of the Golden Flower', a delicious film from the director Zhang Yimou. Him of the beautiful Chinese women flying through the air in 'Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon'. Remember that? Here's the preview. It's a bit scary but gorgeous nonetheless, and Gong Li gives a sumptuous performance.

http://www.sonyclassics.com/curseofthegoldenflower/

2007-03-21T11:23:00.000Z

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Zimbabwe

2007-03-20T20:19:00.000Z

When I visited Zimbabwe ten years ago it was a paradise. The people were easy and hard working. The country was colourful with wild animals of the kind found in children's books. I remember the steam trains with their old fashioned guards, the half elegant, half primitive carvings at Victoria Falls. I remember taking lifts from strangers and thinking nothing of it. I dived over the gorge at the Falls and saw the sapphire river shine below me. On the Zambezi I saw hippos and I galloped with zebras in a game park. It hurts to think what has become of Zimbabwe now.

Sign this petition to urge world leaders to place sanctions to end Robert Mugabe's brutal regime that is causing such devastation of Zimbabwe. http://www.avaaz.org/en/zimbabwe/?cl=2389448

Contemporary Sabbath For Everyone

2007-03-16T11:03:00.000Z

A version of this piece appears in Contented Baby this month.

Last Sunday in the lift of my building I met another mother carrying 5 bags of shopping, and she muttered greyly, ‘It’s just endless, isn’t it?’ I knew what she meant, but actually I don't feel that way anymore, because of my new practice of observing a contemporary Sabbath.

At sundown on Saturdays I turn off the computer, the modem, the router, the Telewest box, the washing machine, the oven and even the lights. I light a few candles and, once my son is in bed, climb into a pre-prepared bath. Not a single humming machine in earshot. A deep calm wells up in my home. And the next day I have time for my son, pure time in which to laugh and nurture our relationship. Absolute bliss.

A deep calm wells up in my home. I have time, pure time in which to laugh and nurture my relationships.

‘Learn to rest,’ was what deep green environmentalist Satish Kumar of Resurgence Magazine (http://www.resurgence.org/) singled out as the most vital thing we could do for the environment. If we all stopped rushing about relentlessly and just once a week gave ourselves and our machines a day of rest, then we would consume less and the earth would have time to regenerate itself. This idea of a weekly “machinery fast” resonated with my extremely lazy nature and stuck with me as a vital and tangible way in which I could contribute to my environment, myself and my family.

Abstaining is not my strong point. I am a rather lax Roman Catholic with healthy appetites. But I find that the valuable time that I need to spend with my son is being sucked into chores. And in as little as ten years according to one estimate, London could be submerged under 200 foot of water. The urgency of climate change cannot be understated. Besides, this fast is not about abstaining, it's about making room for the best things in life.

So, on Saturday evening I try to turn off all the machinery. I set the oven and minimal heating on a timer. Persuading my au pair to go without internet access for 24 hours is tricky. With much negotiation I coax her to switch off the wireless modem. In the morning instead of shopping or preparing lunch my son, Leo, and I haul out the trains and build a city together.
Having a day of rest and nurturing family time is not easy. The first time I tried it was unfortunately considerably undermined by the fact that Leo came down with a sick bug. Showing extraordinary talent my poor son managed to be sick all over three sets of bedlinen! There was an emergency sheet washing marathon and I’m afraid the normally unused tumble dryer was called upon more than once.

‘On Shabbat we stop creating, it is a day of treading lightly upon the world.

Clearly I needed some advice. I called glamorous journalist and orthodox Jewess, Claire Adler. She explained that the Jewish Sabbath (Shabbat) starts at sundown and lasts until sundown the following day, or until you can see three stars in the sky. ‘On Shabbat we stop creating, it is a day of treading lightly upon the world. From Friday evening to Saturday evening it is forbidden to cook anything, turn lights on, drive, work or even talk about work. Instead the time is spent eating delicious food, going to synagogue and gathering with friends. The oven, the lights, the heating and the hot plate can all be set to timer so that nothing is actually activated on Shabbat. This is partly why orthodox Jews choose to live in close knit communities, so that they can visit one another on a Saturday. ‘Forcing yourself to stop working is so powerful,’ she explained, ‘It’s really a wonderful day. We have a saying that “the retribution for not keeping the Sabbath is not keeping the Sabbath”. If you don’t exploit that opportunity then one day rolls into the next and you have just missed out.’

But how does this work for a family? I spoke to Oriol Gershlick, an Orthodox Jewish psychologist and mother of three, to understand how she experiences the Sabbath.
‘Very relaxingly,’ she smiled. ‘The Fourth commandment says that “six days you shall work and the seventh day shall be for God.” I became aware as a teenager that there is more to life than just the everyday, that there is both physicality and spirituality. Observing the Sabbath is about nourishing both my body and my soul, getting in touch with what really matters and transcending the ordinary.’

It takes Oriol around two hours to prepare for the Sabbath on Friday afternoon. She prepares all her meals in advance, makes sure all the shopping is done and switches everything off. She prepares an urn with boiling water and puts the lights on a timer. Then traditionally the wife lights candles to usher in the Sabbath and the husband makes a blessing over sweet wine to symbolise joy and celebration and to sanctify the day. ‘We all need time to recoup and to nurture our marriage and family. Relationships are about give and give, and we need a day when we can bond and have time to be together.’ One of the particularly appealing laws of Shabbat is that husbands and wives are supposed to make sure they consummate their union on Friday night!

One of the particularly appealing laws of Shabbat is that husbands and wives are supposed to make sure they consummate their union on Friday night!

Of course, I’m not suggesting that everyone convert to Judaism, nor am I saying that this is the single solution to all our climate change challenges. Personally I think the concept of putting the lights on the timer is going a bit far, (‘The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath’ after all) but I do think there is a lot of wisdom in this. Oriol describes how she plays with the children in the morning, then her husband returns from synagogue around 9.45am and takes the children to the park. She meanwhile has a nap for a couple of hours. At lunchtime they take the lunch out of the oven, set the special Shabbat table and sing. Her husband dances round the table singing special songs with the children. ‘It has the children giggling and they learnt very quickly to say “Amen” and “more challa” – meaning more special bread’. There is no shopping, no errands – they are just home and they know that mummy and daddy will play with them’. After lunch they will pop over to play with the neighbours.

Shabbat has special food, including a kind of stew called ‘chulent’. This will cook slowly in the oven until lunchtime on Saturday. ‘Or I make roast chicken, chocolate cake, salad and roast potatoes,’ suggests Oriol.

At the end of Shabbat Jewish people make ‘havdalah’ to mark the difference between the sacred and non sacred. They use wine to sanctify, light and besamim, spices, to comfort the soul at the loss of Shabbat. These are also said to give them strength for the week ahead as it is said that they have an extra soul at Shabbat and lose it at Shabbat’s departure.

What we don’t want is a numbingly boring Victorian style Sunday which our children dread. This should be a happy day, not a regimented day – a special day that works for your family – a contemporary Sabbath. The aim is to have a day where I do no work and spend ‘quality time’ with my family that does not involve machinery, electricity, shopping or travelling.

In the novel ‘Disobedience’ Naomi Alderman comments on the ‘heart of the matter [of the Jewish Sabbath]. For if we cannot be distracted by our actions, our creation, we must, at last, come to ourselves… Shabbat draws us back to ourselves. Shabbat presents us with all we have achieved, but nothing more. Shabbat asks, quietly but insistently, who we are. And Shabbat will not relieve us if we should have no answer.’

For if we cannot be distracted by our actions, our creation, we must, at last, come to ourselves… Shabbat draws us back to ourselves. Shabbat presents us with all we have achieved, but nothing more. Shabbat asks, quietly but insistently, who we are. And Shabbat will not relieve us if we should have no answer.’

I was impressed by the unity that the physical and spiritual realms have in Judaism. Roman Catholicism has been very damaged by gnostic ideas about shunning the physical and becoming entirely spiritual, whereas our true heritage lies in finding God in this world. We worship an incarnate God, Godhead made human, the supreme union of the sacred with reality. Love comes to find us in our daily reality. How beautiful that it took my Orthodox Jewish friend to bring me back to the heart of Christianity.

The following Sunday I tried again. One hour before sunset I ran around tidying up and getting ready for my quiet day. It was fun to try to get everything out of the way before sundown. It had been a busy week and I hadn’t managed to organise lunch, but I went for a walk in the local park and serendipitously bumped into friends who I had lunch with. I try not to go to restaurants as that is making work for someone else, and actually it feels a bit hectic, but I don’t take a stand on it. Having no husband, I often use the evening time to have a good rest and read or meditate. The next day I usually find I’m full of enthusiasm and verve for the day. Because I know that it happens once a week I don’t mind working harder the rest of the week – it gives me something to hold on to. The financial saving of switching off all my machines is at least £200 a year using the Good Energy http://www.good-energy.co.uk/ tariff.

The financial saving of switching off all my machines is at least £200 a year using the Good Energy tariff.

Observing a contemporary Sabbath can be whatever you want it to be. You don’t have to be Jewish – or Catholic – to adapt this to your own needs. Committing to a day of rest once a week takes quite some preparation and determination to sustain it. But my three year old son, Leo now says joyfully ‘It’s Sunday!’ He seems to become lighter, freer on Sundays – perhaps because when he sees mummy not working he gets the message that life is not all about grind. The day takes on a contemplative rhythm of its own. And I find that as I continue I become increasingly centred and inspired. I know what I am working for, so I am far more productive on the other days of the week. Perhaps creation enjoys it too.

Gather some moss

2007-02-28T20:45:00.000Z

The front lawn which suffered so much last year during the drought has regrown and is now a springy soft mossy bank (above) such as fairies would be happy to dance on.

Spring has leapt into being eerily early this year, with snowdrops, crocuses, daffodils and azaleas all out in full. The words climate change lurk dauntingly in my mind. Will this strange spring finally catalyse every individual to do something about climate change?

Perhaps we are all doing too much. Let's stay still and gather some moss. Read this series of article from the Tablet on leisure and then go and lie down for a while.

http://www.thetablet.co.uk/pages/leisure1/

The fuss about Gina Ford

2007-02-21T20:28:00.000Z

Above: Two great friends, one of whom is on a Gina Ford routine, the other not. And I defy you to guess which is which!

The Art of Abundance has had its first celebrity endorsement. Actually I loathe the concept of celebrity and I can't bear the obsession our society places on fame. Despite having interviewed a fair few celebrities from sailor Ellen MacArthur to comedienne Catherine Tate, I couldn't care less whether Beyonce does or does not have cellulite, and I never ever watch Big Brother. Still, it's always nice to be appreciated and I was delighted when Gina Ford, parenting guru extraordinaire, told me that she loves this blog!

If you're not familiar with Gina Ford then she is known as the Queen of Routines. She writes 'The Contented Baby' parenting books that sell millions of copies and tell parents in great detail what to do with their children. The thing is, the advice works. Parents who reach the end of their tether and need a decent nights' sleep rave about her when she solves their problems. Innumerable celebrities and high powered working mothers take her advice. She doesn't stop you bonding with your baby; she gives detailed advice on how to get your child onto a routine which works. The parenting world is an odd one, with endless experts writing books which seem to be more about telling you that they are the uber parent than how to best look after your child. Personally I like to take any advice with a large pinch of salt: I'm the mother, any guru is just an adviser.

Anyway, the other day Gina Ford rang me up. I tried to explain the surprise of this to a great friend, priest Father Paul Keane. In the end I found myself saying, 'It's kind of like if the Pope rang you up. 'Ah, now I understand,' he said nodding enthusiastically. This is akin to buying a pair of shoes at Jimmy Choo's and then Jimmy Choo ringing you up to see if they fitted properly. Not that I'm saying Gina Ford, Jimmy Choo and the Pope are in any way alike, but you get the idea of how surprised I was.

She turned out to be wonderfully down to earth and entertaining, with that true grit that comes with years of hard graft and child rearing. Gina Ford has a broad Northern accent and can tell you in seconds where any given childcare problem lies. She comes across as a genius for childcare and passionately committed to supporting parents and children. I'm deeply grateful to her and thanked her for the advice I had gleaned from her website when my son decided to stop sleeping for a month.

Contentedbaby.com is a website set up by Gina Ford to support the people who follow her routines. You have to pay £40 to join, and then you get access to expert advice and a community of mothers. What delighted me most about this website was the wonderful balance and commitment that I found in the community. By contrast with the infamous mumsnet.com, where Gina Ford was once rather bizarrely accused of sending babies on the rocket to the Lebanon, the mothers on ContentedBaby were polite and supportive. These are people who care deeply about every aspect of their children's well-being and want to have contented children. Contrary to popular belief, these are not people who are leaving their babies to cry. Every now and then Gina rings up mothers who post on her website saying that they have left their babies to cry and tells them not to!

Ford also has a terrific sense of humour. She declaimed the extraordinary amount of flak that she gets for her routines but told me she was mainly concerned at the moment with the finding of a toy boy to elope to the Bahamas with. And good luck to her.

calm Sunday

2007-02-19T09:00:00.000Z

Abstaining is not my strong point. I have healthy appetites. I try to avoid puritanism. But I'm realising that fasting is not about abstaining, it's about making room in my life for the best things in life.

Yesterday was Sunday and I did my machinery fast again. At sundown it's absolute bliss to turn off the computer, the modem, the router, the Telewest box, the washing machine, the oven... Not a single humming machine in earshot. (Persuading my au pair to go without internet access for 24 hours was tricky. I managed to get her to turn the modem off by 10am on Sunday - good thing too as the World Health Organisation knows that low levels of electromagnetic energy are OK, but no one has actually done the research in to what high levels of electromagnetic energy do to the body, and I suspect that it will be as with mobile phones. Personally I make very sure my modem and wireless router are switched off every night, though there's not much I can do about the five wireless networks from neighbouring flats that my computer informs me are circulating my apartment.)

After last week's emergency sheet washing marathon (sick toddler - don't ask), this week was better: I spent the day alone quietly resting and trying to tune in to myself and to God. I went to mass, had a little lunch that I'd prepared the night before and popped in for a chat with a neighbour. It slightly foundered towards the end of the afternoon when I set the dishwasher off and went for a walk via a clothing shop, but on the whole it was pretty restful both for me and my gadgets. Today I feel full of enthusiasm and verve and I can't wait to get on with the day.

Taking a rest is the beautiful key to renewal. If we gave the earth a rest it might have time to renew itself. I do wish I could persuade my neighbours of the value of Keeping Sunday Special though. It was so frustrating to walk down to my local high street and see all the cars tearing about. The noise levels were high, the shops were all open. There were still fewer people on the streets than normal, but other than that it was just like a wan version of any other day. We need to learn to rest.

Tomorrow is Shrove Tuesday, Mardi Gras, Pancake Day. After that comes Ash Wednesday, and then Lent. It's belt tightening time, when for 40 days Christians give up luxuries and give the money they have saved to the poor. This is the time to seek God within and to defeat the self indulgence instinct. A great meditation tool online is http://www.sacredspace.ie St Ethelburga's are doing a four part Lenten Journey of Reconciliation

Lots of people give up chocolate, but you might give up driving the car, or even clothes shopping. You might give up throwing food out: Try the Cooking by Numbers site to use up what's in the fridge. Given the news this morning that it may be too late to stop the ice caps melting and millions drowning, let's give up polluting the atmosphere for Lent? The Irish bishops are telling their flocks to give up alcohol. The idea is to 'be filled with the Holy Spirit' instead, but I regret to say that of late my sense of being overflowing with the grace of God has been lacking. Hopefully Lent will remedy that.

The money saved could go to The Cardinal Hume Centre and Actionaid. Two excellent charities. The former looks after the homeless of south London and helps them find their way in life, the latter is probably the best of the overseas aid charities. I also greatly admire EIA I don't pay heed to the endless charity begging letters that come through my door. They all, without fail, go in the bin, because I think you can go a little crazy if you start considering each one on it's merits. Nor do I give out money on the street. Street collections are for lazy people who never bother to give to charity and have to be cajoled into it. I think one should put 5% of one's income into direct debits to support two or so chosen charities, and Gift Aid it.

Muscle and memory

2007-02-08T09:28:00.000Z

'Muscle has memory'

So Louise Doughty says in her blog 'the writer's year'.

Actually I think that the whole body has memory. Emotions become trapped in our body, where they can cause illness. Our bodies, souls and minds should be as one vigorous, entwined expression of life and love.

In the last week I have started doing Darcey Bussell's beautifully calm, meditative 'Darcey Bussell: Pilates For Life' One strange consequence of this is that I felt a breath of dark, sooty breath clearing itself out of my lungs. Who knows, I may have averted serious illness.

Certain eastern medicine systems believe that every part of the body corresponds with a different part of the soul and body. I must admit that my knowledge of this is superficial, but I do use a book called Transform Your Life: A Step-by-step Programme for Change which has a section on the body and the corresponding emotions and what they mean. If I have a problem with a particular part of my body I will always consider the emotional side, although I also consider the possibility that it is nothing to do with that at all. I think it's a mistake to believe that every illness is within our control - sometimes we are ill for inexplicable reasons. And sometimes we suffer through no fault of our own. Still, the connection is worth bearing in mind. The body can offer helpful clues as to our emotional issues. There can be no separating the body from the spiritual and emotional spheres.

Valentine's Day

2007-02-02T15:32:00.000Z

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All I want for Valentine's Day is one of Romi Derman's beautiful Valentine's necklaces. Each one is made by hand, takes two weeks to make and is completely unique. And they all come with their own poem. What more could anyone want? £165 from Castellazzo's, 020 8340 3001

Oh, yes, and true love. I note that there is a novena to my patron saint, Saint Raphael, patron of single people, healing and journeys carrying no for 9 days from 14th February. My Orthodox Jewish friend, Claire, suggests that the Archangel Raphael is the love doctor! http://www.life4seekers.co.uk/lifestylevalues/St.Raphael.html

And to learn to cook at a Valentine's singles Italian cookery course at La Cucina Caldesi.

Hmmn. And maybe a rasul at the Elemis spa - I note that they are still on special offer!

high maintenance? moi? Ok, I'll settle for just true love...

Last year my new love and I braved a very upmarket Indian restaurant on the riverfront in Henley-on-Thames, The Spice Merchant. The food was a flowing series of courses of gourmet Indian food. Outside the window the centuries of liquid history floated by. Inside the restaurant my date took one look at the outpouring of tacky heart shaped confetti and shiny red balloons and panicked. It took a long time to come to the end of that meal. I remember him staring at me balefully, both of us knowing that this relationship would not work but still with at least two of the seven courses left to eat. It seemed considerably less time before our love had joined all the other water under the bridge. The good thing about that is that nothing about VD day can phase me now. Really nothing.

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something for the parents

2007-02-02T11:34:00.000Z

If you are free next week and need a relaxing break with your partner and children, Ickworth Hotel in Suffolk are doing a special offer of £75 per person per night. They are part of the Luxury Family Hotels chain, who invited me to their delightful country house, Moonfleet, some time ago. Both parents and children will love it. All the hotels are doing offers, but Ickworth is the cheapest offer. Below I've attached an article I wrote for Family Life Magazine on the mother and baby spa at Moonfleet Manor.

http://www.ickworthhotel.co.uk/offers.asp

Good noise

2007-01-31T19:27:00.000Z

How fitting that as the film Babel comes out, in The Guardian today there is an article called 'Quiet Please' which declaims the lack of silence in Britain today.

Of course the Parisians have been complaining about the lack of peace and quiet for far longer than us, a fact that I found out when I worked in Paris for Time Magazine. The Parisians had campaigns against noise and campaigns for good noise, which fascinated me. I interviewed a noise sculptor who had created a noise museum and designed the rehearsal rooms of the Academy of Music, channelling sounds from the street, mixing them with the strains of practice from the rehearsal spaces and using a series of cymbals and giant wind chimes to create a noise art work. This wise man pointed out to me that the only place that is truly silent is the tomb, but that the problem now is that we have ugly noise instead of beautiful noise. Our homes are filled with plastic, which does not resonate. Our streets are filled with the nasty grey rumble of vehicles. Sirens, mobile phones, helicopters, and unwanted music from other peoples stereos all combine to create a crazed ambience. In Paris they had sound deflectors lining the Boulevard Peripherique (the Parisian version of the M25), and I think a lot could be learnt from their example. Defra take note.

The film, Babel, by the way, is a horrifying film about misunderstandings between nations, exacerbated by extreme noise. I do recommend that you take a tranquilliser with you for afterwards. Meanwhile, I am going to carry on attempting to bask in lovely golden inner silence for at least five minutes a day. And much as I enjoy the thick swearing from the Irish lady next door every time the people below leave their television on, I think I'll get some double glazing.

an easy way to solve climate change

2007-01-23T21:20:00.000Z

I was going to post this on Sunday, when I thought of it, but I was busy doing nothing!

In as little as ten years according to some estimates, London could be submerged under 200 foot of water. Not to mention poor old Bangladesh!

It's a pretty intimidating challenge, but at a time like this above all have faith. Do not worry about this.

One solution that has been overlooked because it is perhaps not as sexy as say, driving a Prius, or eating organic food, is one that the Orthodox Jews could tell us all about: Respecting the Sabbath. If we all rested on the seventh day it would give the earth time to regenerate. Just switch off your machines, stop running around like a mad thing and chill out. Spend the time sleeping, talking to friends, praying (which is simply talking to the ultimate Friend) sitting in silence, or going for a nice long walk. Revel in quietness. On no account use the time to catch up on work or go shopping. You'll feel better for it and so will the planet.

The highly respected editor of Resurgence Magazine, Satish Kumar, first proposed widespread observance of a day of rest and This is genius. Nothing would be easier to do than to do nothing once a week, and if we all did nothing it would make an extraordinary difference to our planet, not to mention the sanity of mankind.

The green movement seems to have got mixed up with voices crying in the desert saying 'Become carbon neutral or be damned!' I think it's a slightly deranged and unhelpful message. Why not suggest something achievable: Try taking a day of rest for the planet.

For an account of the Orthodox Jewish observance of the Sabbath, you could read the superlative novel Disobedience by Naomi Alderman. Not that I'm suggesting we all go as far as the Orthodox Jews (Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath, after all) but it's a fantastic novel and you would enjoy it anyway. I trust that any Jewish readers will feel free to comment on my somewhat ignorant understanding of Sabbath observance.

2007-01-23T14:15:00.000Z

The art of Abundance has decided to allow ads. A girl's gotta eat, after all. Hope they don't intrude on your enjoyment of the site.

Elemis spa

2007-01-17T11:29:00.000Z

http://www.elemis.com/dayspa.html

This glorious spa does amazing treatments and is probably the best spa in London. I should know, I've tried most of them for my work. I thought you might like to know that they are doing a special offer of their wonderful Rasul for two people for £60. You sit under a twinkly star in a beautiful oriental style hammam and plaster each other with mud. Great fun and £30 each is not bad for a spa treatment. There's also Ironmonger Row baths but it's just not the same.

bearing fruit

2007-01-17T10:40:00.001Z

Recalling summer

2007-01-17T10:40:00.000Z

Alice sent me this wonderful poem about summer:

Mint

I am chopping up the last mint of summer.
It’s a ritual goodbye –
goes with sandals, bare legs, shorts and suntan lotion,
alfresco dinners and the candles burning
to a waxen stump
among the garden leaves.
Last mint on my fingers now,
the scent of it pushed through my hair
when I lift my hand
from a finishing touch to dinner.
Last ritual in a ritual,
and everything I’ve ever learned
seems to return
to the comfort and confines of cycles such as these –
how I am balanced on the last, sharp edges
of this pepper scent which I want to be everywhere,
holding it close
with every intensity I shall ever have,
and how I forget it, in the snow-filled silence
of my three-month-hence garden,
so I wonder to myself
Did I ever eat mint? Did I ever crush it on the circle
of this wide blue plate? Did I ever crave a summer,
long and green and full of this?
The mystery is
what we do with loves even as small as this –
how we learn to live with them,
how we learn to forget.

(R Seatter)

Light Pollution

2007-01-16T10:26:00.000Z

http://www.cpre.org.uk/campaigns/landscape/light-pollution

I know there are some really pressing issues in the world, like the divide between rich and poor, world peace and melting ice caps, but couldn't we just see switch off some lights so that we can see the stars again? If everyone could see the stars, then it might help all the other issues. For a start we'd all get the decent nights' sleep that we need to stop us getting nasty illnesses like breast cancer, sleep deprivation insanity and grumpiness. And we would be stilled by a sense of peace and wonder, which has to be a good thing. We just need to get some plastic masks fitted on the street lamps.

By the way Madeleine Peyroux's 'A Little Bit">is my favourite song at the moment.

The other thing you need to know on this quiet January night is that Pumpkin pizza is God's Own Food. I made my darling son wait an hour for his supper while I made it, but it turned out to be worth the wait. You will find it on p82 of ">Apples of Jam by Tessa Kiros. By the way, said book is the best recipe book I have ever read. It's less a recipe book, more a manual of idyllic childhood.

Rose Unwrapped

2007-01-16T09:58:00.000Z

Biogreen Peach yoghurt drink

2007-01-15T21:12:00.000Z

Smoothies are proof that the world is getting better. When I was a child they didn't exist, now every newsagent stocks them. Anyway, sometimes you cannot judge a smoothie by its cover. Biogreen are the most surprisingly delicious smoothies, despite being in horrible white plastic bottles. One day they'll rebrand and the company will be floated on the stockmarket. In the meantime do try them.

The night train from Paris to Florence

2007-01-10T21:09:00.000Z

Plotting my summer holiday is proving as good as prozac for keeping spirits buoyant. It's the first real family holiday that my son and I will have together and I think it's really important to have a great, epic holiday. 3 weeks is about the right length. More than that and you get bored. Less than that and the brain doesn't have time to unfold, soak up the sunshine and expand itself.

This year we are hoping to stay in a cottage in Tuscany, hopefully joined by family and friends. I want to take the night train from Paris. That is proper travelling - a delicious gentle voyage. It's not like the screaming sleeper that runs from London to Aberdeen, where you wake up every time they cream round a corner. You wake up in Florence with Brunelleschi's Duomo glinting sublimely from behind tenement flats.

Of course, I should be finding the sunshine within. 'Here is where the birds sing, here is where the sun shines' (c.f. Room with a View). What I am really thinking of when I fantasize about a summer holiday is heaven, and the holiday will never quite live up to my high expectations. In truth, heaven is just next door; a glittering, joyous party being held very near, in a separate reality.

winter sun

2007-01-06T14:24:00.000Z

There are two ways to cope with January blues: The first is to book a holiday to South Africa and soak up some lovely sunny rays. I did this when I was pregnant with my son and it worked a treat. A bumpy ride

This year I'm rather uncomfortable with the idea. Partly because of the threat of impending global warming floods, partly an allergic reaction to the drear of airport travelling, but ultimately a sense that there is something too extreme about being plunged into summer when your body seriously believes it should be slowing down for long winter nights, I just think it wouldn't be right to book a winter sun holiday.

But how to get through the dreariness of January?

Well, firstly study ">Roast Figs and Sugar Snow by Diana Henry. It is a culinary celebration of all things cold and wintry and I defy you to want a January summer after reading it. If the dark days are getting you down you could also get one of the lumie lamp range These clever lamps wake you up with a bright light that slowly comes on in the morning to simulate the sunrise. At night it slowly fades when you switch the alarm on which is a very cosy way to go to sleep. Even more effective are their desktop lamps. This year I'm going to enjoy the cold slow stillness of January and spend the time dreaming of my long summer holiday on an organic farm in Tuscany, and if none of that works I shall learn to tango.

How to have abundant time...

2006-12-21T18:49:00.000Z

Well, maybe not, but he is a genius nonetheless. I have adopted Mark Forster's filing system and there is something strangely comforting about it. You just file everything in its proper place, but at the front of the file, so that the thing you used most recently is the thing at the front. Also when looking for things on your computer you click the date modified column, so that the things you worked on most recently come to the fore. Works brilliantly. Mark Forster's blog

Alexander Palace vanishes

2006-12-20T12:25:00.000Z

From my window I can see a vast swathe of London, including Alexander Palace looking like a fairy tale castle floating above London. This morning the sky was clear and yet Alexander Palace could not be seen at all. A white mist blotted it out completely so that it simply did not seem to be there. It was a trial of faith to remember that it is there normally, as it had simply become invisible. Now the mist has lifted and a rosy sunlight allows the palace to be seen - although only just. It still looks as thought a sleeping fairy tale princess must be awaiting her kiss, though. It reminds me of the delicious ballet that I saw on Saturday afternoon at the Royal Opera House

You might also like to know that you can obtain free perfume samples by post through this fabulous service which matches you delightfully to your ideal perfume (while stocks last). Your Perfume Gift

He's not the Messiah

2006-12-13T18:06:00.000Z

In lazy lush Somerset, where the cider apples grow, there was a place called 'The Abode of Love,' where my grandmother and mother both grew up. My great grandfather, awkwardly, is reputed to have declared himself to be the Messiah there and had three children by the Holy Spirit: Power, Glory and Life. Life was my grandmother.

irises

2006-12-12T17:29:00.000Z

(just because)

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Happy St Nicholas Day!

2006-12-06T09:43:00.000Z

How fitting that Gordon Brown is announcing a cash injection for schools today. A much better present than sweets!

Communicating with the unborn child

2006-12-05T09:13:00.000Z

First written for Junior Pregnancy and Baby Magazine, this is a description of an extraordinary French pregnancy treatment called haptonomy that helps parents communicate with their unborn children. I know that sounds a little unlikely, but don't dismiss it out of hand. In France it is a well established, mainstream pregnancy treatment. It is pretty significant: If we really can communicate with babies in the womb, then that changes the way we view pregnancy. The clipping is a little hard to read, so I've transcribed it below.

Bonding the French Way

Haptonomy may sound like a nebulous way of getting in touch with your unborn child, but in France it's subsidised by the state.

By happy coincidence, I became pregnant at the same time as a friend who lives in Paris. As we compared notes by email, I began to feel that in some respects I had a lesser deal. Marianne was off every other day to baby singing classes, aqua-natal and something called haptonomy, which was involved communicating with the baby and was subsidised by the state health service. 'It's wonderful!' she raved, 'The midwife showed me how the baby can tell the difference between my hand and hers, and its so sweet to see him swim and nestle in my hand.' Marianne also described how she was learning to go through labour with her baby, rather than just focusing on herself.

Fascinated and envious, I decided to go to Paris to experience haptonomy first hand. I made an appointment with a haptonomist called Corinne. She warned me that, coming only once, I would not expeirence haptonomy, "only glimpse what it is". I was also, at 32 weeks, coming too late on in the pregnancy. 'Normally we start as early as five months,' And worse, I was not bringing my husband - haptonomy enables the father to take his place in the family. 'Haptonomy is about getting in touch with your unborn child. It is a tactile and emotional meeting.'

I worried that I'd come to Paris for some strange hippy treatment.

I worried that I'd come to Paris for some strange hippy treatment. But when I arrived in Corinne's smart private clinic, it became clear that she was a professional woman with great clarity. And, as an obstetrician, she had undergone a rigorous medical training.
'Haptonomy is the science of affectivity,' she said, 'the science of emotions.' It's about 'le rencontre' - 'the meeting' - an interaction with another. Haptonomists believe that for a person to become whole they must benefit from such interaction even while in the womb.

As I lay on her couch, Corinne helped me to feel where the baby was lying. We put our hands where we sensed the baby's head to be, and she rocked me gently to help me to relax.
As she did so, I opened up and explained my circumstances. Shortly after I'd become pregnant my partner left, and although we were friends he was so determinedly hands off that he had never even felt the baby kick. As I related all this, close to tears, Corinne said the baby was tensing up. It was true: I could feel it. It shocked me to realise how much he was affect by my state of mind. Corinne invited me to explain to the baby that although I felt anguish at the situation, I loved him and that it was in no way his fault. Perhaps this is my imagination, but I do feel that the baby was happier after that. It seemed to reassure him.

Corinne taught me that the relationship between mother and child is so intimate that I did not have to say anything aloud. 'Now say tp the baby in your heart, "viens dans mon coeur, mon cheri" ("come into my heart") she suggested. I did: and the baby moved right up until he was touching my diaphragm. He seemed to be urgently seeking my affection. It was an incredibly beautiful moment.

"the baby moved right up until he was touching my diaphragm. He seemed to be urgently seeking my affection. It was an incredibly beautiful moment."

Corinne then taught me to guide the baby so that he was cradled comfortably in my pelvis, and she gave me some techniques for reducing pain during labour. Finally, she showed me ways of holding myself and moving that allowed the baby enough space, and of guiding the baby with my hands during labour so as to make his passage easier.

The experience convinced me that haptonomy really works. It brought home to me the fact that I don't just have a "bump" but a living, feeling person inside me who needs my affection now. It was the first time I realised what a heavy sense of responsibility goes with being a parent.

I asked Corinne for ways to communicate haptonomy to others, especially my baby's father. "You can't explain it," she replied, "but tell him to approach the baby with all the love in his heart. Men, especially English men," she said with a smile, "can be very slow to show their emotions - which shows how our experiences are imprinted upon us.

"Men, especially English men," she said with a smile, "can be very slow to show their emotions - which shows how our experiences are imprinted upon us."

In a way, haptonomy is simple emotional intelligence, and I thought it would be easy enough to emulate at home. But it is surprisingly difficult. Corinne had a remarkable talent for enabling me to express love and make contact with my unborn child. She summed up haptonomy: "It is about waking up to all that is at stake in a child's heart, and the reality of what it is to be a parent."

What is Haptonomy?

Haptonomy is also known as the science of affectivity, and centres around human emotional (affective) relations and interaction. The word come from the Greek 'hapsis' - meaning tactile contact, sense, feeling - and 'nomos' - law, rule, the norm. Only health professionals can train as haptonomists. It is used with pregnant and postnatal women, disabled people and in psychotherapy.
The theory was founded by Frans Valdman, a Dutch researcher of life sciences, and is taught at the Centre International de Recherche et de Developpement de l'Haptonomie (CIRDH) in Oms, France. Valdman developed the theory while interned in a concentraion camp, where he realised the importance of the affective in human relations and healing. Today there are haptonomy classes in France, Germany, Holland and Spain, but as yet there are no courses in the US or UK. For further information, contact CIRDH; visit www.haptonomy.org or write to CIRDH, Mas del Ore, 66400 Oms, France. Tel: 00 33 (0)4 08 39 4223 email cirdh@haptonomy.org

Abundance the novel

2006-12-03T13:27:00.000Z

Marie Antoinette never did say that the poor should eat cake, and was in many ways a woman with great depth of character, but I can't help thinking that she didn't really face up to the darkness that beset the world she lived in, and in the end she lost her head, poor thing. This novel is a celebration of the sensuous side of life and perhaps also a cautionary tale for escapists and for people such as me who confuse an abundance of pretty possessions with spiritual abundance.

Chocolat relived

2006-12-03T13:25:00.000Z

A box of exotic tasting chocolate arriving every month to delight and intrigue. This would be a magical present for someone who needs a little magic in their life (and who doesn't?). Membership of the Montezuma Chocolate Club costs £15 per month. Kind of like Chocolat the novel without the anti-Catholicism.

Kite flying

2006-11-26T21:58:00.000Z

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How to find abundance... and how not to

2006-11-22T08:07:00.000Z

It is calculated that we could all increase our earnings by about 25% by being savvy about our money. Here's how. Moneysavingexpert.com

So many people promise abundance. I believe that only faith in God through Jesus Christ can bring true abundance, which is a gift. There are many predatory groups that would like to control your mind and exploit your money or your life. Not to be confused with religions, these groups are usually secretive and use mind control techniques to persuade you to believe silly things. They promise satisfaction, they deliver enslavement. Have a look at this website about Samael Aun Weor.

'Forty Nine levels of consciousness?? How ridiculous!!':

And here is some information on how to spot a cult:

http://www.cultinformation.org.uk/home.html

waves

2006-11-13T21:17:00.000Z

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Natural Grace

2006-11-13T19:33:00.000Z

One day last week I turned to my book shelf and suddenly noticed an intriguing book that I had not noticed before. I think a PR company may have sent it to me at the Millennium, but I had entirely forgotten its existence. Quite suddenly it seemed to be time to read that book. 'Natural Grace' by Matthew Fox and Rupert Sheldrake is a dialogue between a scientist and a priest, looking at ways of understanding faith through science and science through faith.. I started reading and for four days I hardly put it down, I seemed to be borne along, nourished by the wave of creativity and grace pouring out of the book. It Perhaps the strongest precept within it was that creation is sacred. It wasn't that I agreed with every idea in the book, but that it seemed to turn me back towards life and towards the grace inherent in creation.

Highgate

2006-11-09T16:45:00.000Z

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How to order photographs

2006-11-08T16:56:00.000Z

All of the photographs on this blog are for sale, unless they are attributed to someone other than Fiona Campbell. Please use the comment facility to send an orders. Prices start at £10 for a 6 x 4 inch photograph. Please specify sizes and quantities when ordering.

Two little Narnians

2006-11-08T16:49:00.000Z

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guess where I was?

2006-11-06T22:18:00.000Z

clue: not Narnia. Or maybe it was?

natural swimming ponds in the garden - such a very Narnian idea

2006-11-06T14:46:00.000Z

photo of Gartenart natural swimming pond (not one of my photos)

When I was a very privileged child growing up in the Home Counties, before Lloyd's of London took it all away (sigh...) we had a swimming pool. True, it was a freezing cold ice block of a swimming pool, but I cannot tell you what a delicious thing it is to be able to swim alone whenever you want to. The trouble with swimming pools, though, is that every wretched day, someone has to get up and perform little tests and put chemicals in and scrub that pool from top to bottom.

Nowadays I swim in the stunning Ladies Bathing Pond on Hampstead Heath. Marigolds flank either side, kingfishers flash through the trees and occasionally you feel a fish kiss your leg. Somehow it is the most deliciously clean water, even though it is brown. The only snag is that everyone knows about it now, so that by August it is thoroughly smelly, full of shrieking girls and has an oil slick of sun tan lotion floating on the surface. The ideal is to build one of these exquisite natural swimming ponds, which have lovely plants in them to keep the water pristine and a solar heater to keep them pleasantly warm. You can swim every morning in your very own pool in the privacy of your own garden. You don't even have to have a big garden - they do titchy tiny London sized ones too! If you order one now, it should be ready for next summer.

a little Narnian?

2006-11-05T21:19:00.000Z

My son, Leo, at 10 days old in a field of bluebells. First published in Junior Pregnancy and Baby Magazine.

Trying to get into Narnia

2006-11-02T18:38:00.000Z

Since I was a child I have wanted to get into the magical land of Narnia. I can remember praying to God that he would allow me to get into Narnia. I climbed into my wardrobe - a built in one full of pink satin party dresses - and banged on the back. Nothing. Only the thud of plyboard. It was only later, when my faith in God had matured that I felt that in some metaphysical way I had in fact 'got into Narnia'.

So, imagine my excitement when I realised that CS Lewis had been inspired by my birthplace of Northern Ireland when he wrote Narnia! Here is what I wrote for The Observer last Christmas:

Northern Ireland

If You Didn't Find Narnia in Your Own Wardrobe...

... you might just find it in Northern Ireland, the birthplace of CS Lewis and beloved inspiration for the author's fictional land. In the week the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is released, Fiona Campbell goes searching for Aslan

this article first appeared on Sunday December 4, 2005
The Observer

Fantasy land... in the snow-capped landscape of the Mourne Mountains, CS Lewis felt 'that at any moment a giant might raise his head over the next ridge'. [photo courtesy of Northern Ireland Tourist Office]

When Disney scoured the world looking for a location to play Narnia's mythical landscape, they chose New Zealand's fantastical soaring mountains and sun-scorched grassy plains. As Ronald Bresland has shown in his book, "The Backward Glance," it would have pleased CS Lewis, Narnia's creator, but it wouldn't have resonated with his love of 'Northernness'. For Lewis the portal into Narnia was far closer to home - Ulster.

'I have seen landscapes, notably in the Mourne Mountains and southwards which under a particular light made me feel that at any moment a giant might raise his head over the next ridge,' he wrote in his essay On Stories. While living in England he spoke of the magic of Northern Ireland: 'I yearn to see County Down in the snow, one almost expects to see a march of dwarfs dashing past. How I long to break into a world where such things were true.'

And in a letter to his brother, he confided explicitly: 'That part of Rostrevor which overlooks Carlingford Lough is my idea of Narnia.'
While he loved the countryside, in a letter to his best friend Arthur Greeves, Lewis confessed that he was less fond of the people. 'The country is very beautiful and if only I could deport the Ulstermen and fill their land with a populace of my own choosing, I should ask for no better place to live in.' This, argue some experts, is what he did when creating Narnia.

Clive Staples Lewis grew up in Ulster, honeymooned there and continued to return throughout his life, and yet you will find no mention of the bestselling author in most guidebooks to Ireland. Only now, with the release of the Disney film, the area is waking up to this major aspect of its heritage.

The Northern Ireland Tourist Board has produced a lustrous, full-colour booklet detailing Lewis's local links. Harper Taxi Tours, which usually takes tourists round the Shankill and Falls Roads to see the murals and sites of Belfast's political history, has branched out into a more magical subject area and created a CS Lewis tour. Queen's University is dedicating a reading room, and there is even a CS Lewis Festival that started on Friday and runs until 11 December. It is all thanks to lottery and EU funding of 'Celebrate Belfast', aimed at shaking off the city's troubled image and revitalising its tourism.

I have been obsessed with the Narnia books since reading them and, like many children, trying to reach Narnia by climbing into my wardrobe. Perhaps it appealed all the more because I too grew up in Ulster, and I too left (me aged seven, CS Lewis aged 10). I have happy childhood memories of playing with my brother in the barley fields during holidays in Northern Ireland, and perhaps Narnia appealed because it reminded me of all the best parts of Ulster that I knew and missed. So I set off to revisit my old haunts to see if they would remind me of Narnia.

On our first day in Ulster, tour guide Ken Harper loaded my eccentric family into his (burgundy) Black Taxi. There was my two-year-old son Leo, beaming in his buggy, along with Olga, his Russian nanny, and Roslyn, my grown-up Irish cousin.

First stop was St Mark's, Holywood Road, Belfast, the church Lewis attended. 'You can see the door knob with a lion on it on the rectory where Lewis's grandfather lived,' said Ken enthusiastically.

We were sceptical about how worthwhile a journey to see a doorknob would be, but there was something surprisingly mystical about that lion. Jack, as CS Lewis liked to be called, would have looked up to the doorknob just as Leo was doing now, and seen this majestic lion transporting him to corridors of magic.

In fact my family and the Lewises came from the same social circle. Perhaps that's why Little Lea, Lewis's childhood home, seemed familiar; it was almost exactly like my grandmother's house. It had the same sense of abundance - solid door frames of ample size, generous, mysterious wardrobes, spacious rooms; nothing skimped. In Northern Ireland there is an unspoken understanding that things are done to the full. This is very much what the 'happy land of Narnia' is about - it is a land of butter and cream, of plenty, made even more poignant because it was written during postwar hardship, when even potatoes (to Lewis's consternation) were rationed.

Little Lea is now privately owned and the new owners prefer not to have tourists visiting, so Ken gave us the house's history from the gates. I tiptoed up to the front door of the house, in whose 'Little End Room' Lewis spent hours of his childhood inventing stories about other worlds and talking to animals and looking out across Co Down to the Mourne Mountains beyond. It is a mysteriously complex piece of Victorian architecture with rambling outhouses and a pleasant garden. Beyond would have been rolling countryside. This is where Jack spent the happiest years of his childhood before his mother died in 1908 when he was nine. The Chronicles of Narnia may have been his attempt to evoke that lost sense of childhood happiness.

Ken drove us through the housing estates of East Belfast, where a CS Lewis mural rises like a beacon of goodness amid the menacing slogans of conflict. Protestant CS Lewis had virtually no interest in politics. 'I believe that ... those who are at the heart of each division [of religion] are all closer to one another than to those who are at the fringes,' he wrote to one Catholic correspondent.

When we climbed the Holywood hills and saw the vivid green fields and glinting sea I began to feel that this really was the brink of Narnia. Lewis would have walked these hills and looked out across Belfast, 'ringing with the sound of the hammers that built the Titanic', to the countryside lapping into the distance. And beyond, the portentous and dominating Mourne Mountains.

Lewis was longing for, as his brother puts it, 'the lost simplicity of country pleasures, the empty sky, the unspoilt hills, the white silent roads on which you could hear the rattle of a farm cart half a mile away'. To get a sense of that world, head for the extraordinary, if melancholy, Ulster Folk and Transport Museum. This 175-acre site, in the Holywood hills where Lewis grew up, is a town and surrounding rural area frozen exactly as it would have been in 1901.

The northern coast of Antrim was much loved by Lewis. Ronald Bresland, author of The Backward Glance: CS Lewis and Ireland, argues that 'among the romantic ruins of Dunluce Castle and the windswept beaches of the Causeway Coast, we can detect something of the origins of Cair Paravel [Narnia's fairytale castle].'

In The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, Lewis describes the castle 'towering up above them; before them were the sands, with rocks and little pools of salt water, and seaweed, and the smell of the sea, and long lines of bluish green waves breaking forever and ever on the beach. And oh, the cry of the sea-gulls!' For the real Narnia as Lewis intended it, 'Narnia of the heathery mountains and the thymy downs, Narnia of the many rivers, the plashing glens, the mossy caverns and the deep forests' (The Horse and His Boy), you need to see Down. 'The green hills ... The soft low hills of Down,' as Lewis wrote in a poem.

On your way stop at Rowallane Gardens. They have a quiet, almost forgotten feeling a little like the garden beyond the hills in The Magician's Nephew. Enter by the Golden Gates (OK, wrought iron, but still...) and enjoy roaming among the profuse flowers.

Then head to Rostrevor, or stay at The Old Inn in Crawfordsburn where CS Lewis and Joy Gresham enjoyed an 'almost perfect' belated honeymoon. At night settle down by the fire and read the Irish myths Lewis's nurse, Lizzie Endicott, delighted her young charge with, or have spirited debates about whether myth is truth, or the existence of God, as Lewis loved to do.
By day you can enjoy Tollymore Forest Park and visit the Mourne Heritage Trust in Newcastle who will guide you on walks through the Mournes and Silent Valley.

Despite a shocking amount of recent development in the form of boxy uPVC-windowed houses, Northern Ireland is a great destination for a family holiday. Leo exulted in the child-friendly attractions, including the world-class W5 Museum, with more than 140 interactive exhibits. The renowned warmth of the Northern Irish welcome doubles when you have young children in tow, and Leo left thinking he was royalty.
For many, the area's appeal as a family tourist destination has been long overshadowed by the conflict, but as you look out over Co Down from the Mournes, you may feel Ulster coming back to life, like a stone giant breathed on by Aslan.

Factfile
'Northern Ireland and CS Lewis', a booklet giving details of the places that inspired the author, and how to get there, is available from the Northern Ireland Tourist Board (028 9023 1221; www.discovernorthernireland.com). Details of Ken Harper's CS Lewis Black Taxi Tour are at www.harpertaxitours.co.nr or call 028 9074 2711.
Double rooms at the Malone Lodge Hotel (028 9038 8000; www.www.malonelodgehotel.com in Belfast start from £89, bed and breakfast.
In County Down, try the Kilmorey Arms Hotel in Kilkeel (028 4176 2220; www.kilmoreyarmshotel.co.uk or The Old Inn, Crawfordsburn (028 9185 3255; www.theoldinn.com where CS Lewis spent his honeymoon with Joy Gresham.
Easyjet (0905 821 0905; www.easyjet.com). flies from eight English and Scottish cities to Belfast from £26 return.

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Greetings!

2006-10-26T18:42:00.000Z

I'm writing this on 5th November, 2006, and outside my window across London there are fireworks going up. My inner egomaniac thinks they are for me, because, 'hurrah! I have at last published my blog.' I'm not comfortable with celebrating the burning of a Catholic, but I like to think that they are celebrating the survival of democracy in the face of religious extremism.

Welcome to the photographic blog of Fiona Campbell. There are at least ten Fiona Campbells currently working in the media, which is why I have now decided to use my initials, A L. Guess what they stand for? I almost lived with the Fiona Campbell who works at the BBC, which would have been really confusing. Hopefully the quality of my work shines through, but I thought it was about time I clarified matters.

This blog aims to take you on a dance of inspiration and delight. To give you a sense of abundance through the arts, spirituality, and life. I created it to showcase my writing and photography, and hopefully to make this world a tiny bit better in one way or another. Please let me know what you think.

If you wish to commission me as a writer or photographer, then please do not hesitate to contact me. Just click on any of the comment boxes and send me a message.

All the content on this blog is copyright Fiona Campbell 2006 unless otherwise stated.

the art of abundance

Checkout my new blog, the luminosity blog

Stop Press!

winter survival guide

The Fiona Campbells are coming

weddings

Galilee

Dreamy, trippy times at the Dead Sea

Bahai rainbow

Sinai

Arctic Ibstone

Guilt free Motherhood

Terrorism in Mumbai

Baby P and the trial by media

House of Sand

journey to Narnia

Calm in the Storm

That time of year

Happiness

Snowdrops

Welcome, Tony

Tony Blair

the scandal of grace

Moon Philosophy

Christmas shopping

On Another's Sorrow

poison paint

The Age of Innocence

un vrai hotel Parisien

Cultural Week

Melon season

A National Obsession

Benn's really unsleazy sleaze scandal

Not so safe countries

the art of weather

the best news I have read in years

playing in the tulips

Gong's places

Chinese magnolia

'Curse of the Golden Flower'

Zimbabwe

Contemporary Sabbath For Everyone

Gather some moss

The fuss about Gina Ford

calm Sunday

Muscle and memory

Valentine's Day

something for the parents

Good noise

an easy way to solve climate change

Ads

Elemis spa

bearing fruit

Recalling summer

Light Pollution

Rose Unwrapped

Biogreen Peach yoghurt drink

The night train from Paris to Florence

winter sun

How to have abundant time...

Alexander Palace vanishes

He's not the Messiah

irises

Happy St Nicholas Day!

Communicating with the unborn child

Abundance the novel

Chocolat relived

Kite flying

How to find abundance... and how not to

waves

Natural Grace

Highgate

How to order photographs

Two little Narnians

guess where I was?

natural swimming ponds in the garden - such a very Narnian idea

a little Narnian?

Trying to get into Narnia

Greetings!