Helena Frith Powell

As we watched Spider-Man reveal his identity to MJ yesterday Leo suddenly got a very serious look on his face.

“Mummy,” he began slowly. “One day when I have a girlfriend, I will have to tell her who I am.”

Leo/Spider-Man who obviously has girls on his mind at the moment.

I overheard telling his best friend Louis what sex is the other day. Apparently it’s “when you lie all naked in a bed and you kiss on the lips”. So now you know.

A Happy New Year to you all.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

My father came for Christmas. He is 84 and wrote a novel last year which won a major literary prize in Italy in September. He is an incredible character. Despite the fact that we have never lived together (my parents split up when I was two) he has an uncanny ability to work out whatever happens to be worrying me and giving me good advice.

This Christmas his travelling companion was my mother. It was lovely to see them together; amusing and rather unusual. They act a little like an old married couple. One morning my mother noticed his flies were undone.

“Your flies are undone,” she said.

“Of course they are,” he replied. “I left them undone for you to tell me to do them up. Otherwise what use are you?”

Rupert asked my father if he thought I am more like him or my mother.

“I ignore anything that is not like me in Helena,” he said. “I have the impression that I made her all myself.”

My mother, who has a generous nature and plenty of humour, lets this kind of comment slide.

But it is an odd thing, that when I look into his eyes, I have the impression that I am looking into my own.

They have gone now. My father is on to his next novel and wants to take my mother with him to Poland where he needs to go to do some research. I’m not sure she’s tempted by the idea of Poland with a literary genius who forgets to do his flies up, but you never know. And they were such fun to be with, I might go along myself.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

For me this Christmas really began with Leo and his ballet performance at Abu Dhabi Mall to the tune of ‘We wish you a Merry Christmas’. Now we are almost there. It is Christmas Eve and I am sitting by a roaring fire with our Credit Crunch Christmas Tree (donated by a friend from his garden but slightly skinny and collapsing under the weight of the decorations, my mother asked if it was upside down) planning the big day.

Sadly only Leo still believes in Father Christmas. Olivia sussed him out a few weeks ago and of course where she goes, Bea follows. I have not confirmed that he doesn’t exist.I just can’t bring myself to. I remember the feeling of loss I had when I realised he was not real. So I just say ‘he exists if you believe in him’.

Wolfie my gorgeous dog showed up, covered me in kisses, ate three meals and then….left again. Typical male. But it was so nice to see him. I am torn between wanting him to come back and dreading it because saying goodbye again will be too awful.

Being home is still heavenly. I can’t think of a nicer place to spend Christmas Day. We have ordered a turkey, planned the bread sauce and all I need now is some time to wrap the stocking fillers.

Not for the first time in my life I am wishing Father Christmas really did exist….

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

How could I ever have left him? Or is it her? Actually I always think of Sainte Cecile as feminine, I suppose Cecile is. And as for selling up…..what a stupid, mad, cruel and short-termist notion.

I can’t tell you how nice it is to be home. There is something deeply satisfying about it. I feel grounded, happy, content, like donning an apron and making fresh pasta.

The children are like, well, kids in a sweet shop. They are exstatic. Around every corner is a toy they missed or a tree they climbed. Every few minutes they tell me how happy they are to be home. Irritated as they are by the mess left after all the summer rentals. Bea is most idignant over her trampoline. The cover has been broken. Olivia suggets we make the tenants pay for it and then we will be rich enough to stay here for ever.

It’s a nice thought, but actually I am not unhappy with our two homes. If we can keep things ticking along. In seven years there will be no mortgage to pay here and we can look forward to watching our grandchildren play on the swings just as our children have done.

As Rupert says; Sainte Cecile is part of us. Selling it would really be the maddest thing to do and I am sure we would regret it for ever. I have fallen head over heels in love again, and not just with all my shoes (although the reunion has been extremely emotional) but just with HOME. The slight bend in the road before you get to the house, the roaring fire, Max (who is looking great, fatter and younger than when we left), the Olive trees in the garden, the sound of the source. All that’s missing is my dog. He moved in with Madame Fontenon up the road. Maybe today he will pay us a visit and complete the perfect homecoming.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

No, nothing to do with waxing, but Two Lipsticks & a Lover is now available in Brazil. The news was a lovely way to end an otherwise fairly unremarkable birthday. The highlight was lunch with Olivia and Bea at IKEA where they looked and behaved like princesses. Leo was at a friend’s house and all was apparently going super well until he tried to leave with said friend’s Spider-Man socks. Any grandparents reading please take note – I can’t find a pair anywhere in Abu Dhabi….

So tomorrow we head off back to Sainte Cecile. How do I feel about this? I’m not sure really. I know there will be lots of admin chores and things to sort out (although thankfully Max now has a home thanks to my lovely in-laws). I am almost nervous about how I will react at seeing our home. Will I lock myself in the bathroom when the time comes to leave and refuse to go? Will I long for the sunshine and domestic staff in Abu Dhabi? Will I feel emotional every time the children say or do something they could only do at Sainte Cecile?

Our home is a little like an old boyfriend you split up with when you were still in love. Seeing him again might re-kindle your feelings or you might realise you are totally over him.

I hope it’s the latter when it comes to Sainte Cecile. I think we will have to sell. And there’s nothing worse than parting with something you still love. As Leo’s friend realised when he saw his Spider-Man socks walking out of the door.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Today is my birthday. So why am I not elated? I don’t know. I have woken up with a splitting headache and grumpy as hell.

“I think you must be in your forties by now,” said Rupert when he woke up, which didn’t help matters.

I suppose the fact is it is just like any other day; the remote control still doesn’t work, we’ve run out of milk, my amazon rating is crap and the bills still need paying. But there is the pressure of having to make it special. Or feeling depressed if it’s not special. And terribly sorry for myself.

What to do to make it special? An episode of Sex and the City I think. And maybe they will have bought a cake at work. Obviously I won’t be eating any. Fat and old is no way to go through life. Well, maybe just a sliver.
As George Harrison said: “All the world is birthday cake, so take a piece, but not too much.”

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

So this is it. It has finally happened to me.

They say when you move to the UAE you gain what is affectionately known as the ‘Dubai stone’. I won’t be doing that, I thought smugly, sipping my grande latte (full-fat milk, natch). Oh dear. And double dear. Now I have.

I only noticed it yesterday. We were at the beach. I went to the loo and caught sight of myself in the mirror. “Hmmmm,’ I thought. ‘I look rather large, must be the cut of the bikini or the light or maybe there is something wrong with the mirror.’

Then we got home and it was time to get dressed to go out to a party. I put on an outfit and looked in the mirror. Horror of horrors. Instead of a palm tree, there was a socking great oak. Broad in the beam is putting it mildly.

Rupert confirmed my worst fears. “You look rather….chunky,” he said.  He wouldn’t dare use the ‘f’ word. Oh HELP – how can this have happened?

It gets worse. We went to the party and I chatted to a lovely French woman about how I had to lose some weight. Normally I say this in half-jest just so I can hear those comforting ‘oh don’t be ridiculous, you’re so thin’ kind of remarks. What did I get from the super-slim French lady? A stony silence. And she’s RIGHT, I am now overweight. At least I am not thin by French standards. Or my own.

The irony is I am writing a diet book. Ha! They won’t be using me in the publicity shots. Unless I follow my own advice that is. Or maybe I should just go the Oprah route; surrender and buy bigger clothes?

NEVER!

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Getting into bed last night with my laptop and my newly-purchased box-set of Sex and the City it occurred to me that happiness is all about little things. Like getting into bed at 9pm with over 100 episodes of Sex and the City and a green tea.

I have thoughts of some others which are listed below. Would love to hear yours.

Gazing at my son

Clean sheets

Going for a walk with my husband

Lying on Bea’s bed telling the girls a story I made up

A full decaf latte (Starbucks, natch)

The end of a curry when the sauce is all mixed up with the remaining rice

Sleeping through the night

A new lip gloss

Enjoying a good book

Watching the girls sing Carla Bruni songs and imagining them married to a future French president

Writing a good article

Knowing that Christmas will be over in a few weeks….OK, only joking (half).

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

This plea for help from a man in Zimbabwe arrived today. I don’t know what I can do to help, but rather than do nothing am posting it. What can you do?

I reckon that these are the last days of TKM and ZPF. The darkest hour is always before dawn.

We are all terrified at what they are going to destroy next……..they are ploughing down brick and mortar houses and one family with twin boys of 10 had no chance of salvaging anything when 100 riot police came in with AK47’s and bulldozers and demolished their beautiful house – because it was ‘too close to the airport’, so we are feeling extremely insecure right now.

You know – I am aware that this does not help you sleep at night, but if you do not know – how can you help? Even if you put us in your own mental ring of light and send your guardian angels to be with us – that is a help -but I feel so cut off from you all knowing I cannot tell you what’s going on here simply because you will feel uncomfortable. There is no ways we can leave here so that is not an option.

I ask that you all pray for us in the way that you know how, and let me know that you are thinking of us and sending out positive vibes… that’s all. You can’t just be in denial and pretend/believe it’s not going on.

To be frank with you, it’s genocide in the making and if you do not believe me, read the Genocide Report by Amnesty International which says we are – IN level 7 – (level 8 is after it’s happened and everyone is in denial).

If you don’t want me to tell you these things-how bad it is-then it means you have not dealt with your own fear, but it does not help me to think you are turning your back on our situation. We need you, please, to get the news OUT that we are all in a fearfully dangerous situation here. Too many people turn their backs and say – oh well, that’s what happens in Africa

This Government has GONE MAD and you need to help us publicize our plight—or how can we be rescued? It’s a reality! The petrol queues are a reality, the pall of smoke all around our city is a reality, the thousands of homeless people sleeping outside in 0 Celsius with no food, water, shelter and bedding are a reality. Today a family approached me, brother of the gardener’s wife with two small children. Their home was trashed and they will have to sleep outside. We already support 8 adult people and a child on this property, and electricity is going up next month by 250% as is water.

How can I take on another family of 4 —–and yet how can I turn them away to sleep out in the open?

I am not asking you for money or a ticket out of here – I am asking you to FACE the fact that we are in deep and terrible danger and want you please to pass on our news and pictures. So PLEASE don’t just press the delete button! Help best in the way that you know how.

Do face the reality of what is going on here and help us SEND OUT THE WORD.. The more people who know about it, the more chance we have of the United Nations coming to our aid. Please don’t ignore or deny what’s happening. Some would like to be protected from the truth BUT then, if we are eliminated, how would you feel? ‘If only we knew how bad it really was we could have helped in some way’.

[I know we chose to stay here and that some feel we deserve what’s coming to us]

For now,— we ourselves have food, shelter, a little fuel and a bit of money for the next meal – but what is going to happen next? Will they start on our houses? All property is going to belong to the State now. I want to send out my Title Deeds to one of you because if they get a hold of those, I can’t fight for my rights.

Censorship!—-We no longer have SW radio [which told us everything that was happening] because the Government jammed it out of existence – we don’t have any reporters, and no one is allowed to photograph. If we had reporters here, they would have an absolute field day. Even the pro-Government Herald has written that people are shocked, stunned, bewildered and blown mindless by the wanton destruction of many folks homes, which are supposed to be ‘illegal’ but for which a huge percentage actually do have licenses.

Please! – do have some compassion and HELP by sending out the articles and personal reports so that something can/may be done.

‘I am one. I cannot do everything, —but I can do something.. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do. What I can do, I should do. And what I should do, by the grace of God,
I will do.’

- Edward Everett Hale

PS Please send this on to everyone in your address book. We send jokes out
without blinking an eyelid. We don’t get told this on the news in South Africa , we only get told what they want us to hear. We all have a chance to do something, even though the something is by pressing forward to as many people as possible. Let’s stop talking and let’s start doing! There is power in prayer, there is also power in more people knowing about this than you in my address book. This is going to America , Dubai , Australia , France , South Africans all over South Africa , the UK . By forwarding this to all in my address book I have done something. The world needs to know what is going on.

For anyone who has filled their car with petrol over the last year and baulked at the bill, I can set your mind at rest: the price was worth paying. Of course, that’s with the exception of the share taken by western governments, who fritter it on useless activities.

However, here in Abu Dhabi, where the oil is drilled, the proceeds are being put to good use. The other evening we went to a party to celebrate the country’s National Day. The United Arab Emirates was formed 37 years ago. It is quite strange to live in a country younger than oneself, although of course Helena pretends she is younger still.

As we stood on a balcony overlooking the Corniche we suddenly saw four microlights flying in formation, spraying fireworks like rockets. Then there was a roar from a barge in the bay and the fireworks began. Trying to describe fireworks is like trying to paint water, but here goes: huge circles of colour, sapphire blues, grass greens, gold and silver, then other rockets with lights that parachuted down into the water, roman candles throwing up yellow and pink sparks, other rockets with colours like the French flag, then the UAE flag, then more rockets and bangs and sparks like fireflies. At times it was as if the sky were filled with giants chandeliers.
All the while this was happening a simultaneous show was taking place opposite the Emiratres Palace Hotel. It was a firework display in Dolby Stereo. The children stood looking in awe, uttering the odd “Wheee” before collapsing either cold or asleep. The display went on longer than a firework show decently should. It was like eating a kilo of caviar or drinking a full bottle of Chateau d’Yquem.

For the first time ever, when the show ended, I felt like I had seen enough fireworks for the day. “That’s enough fireworks,” I said. And went inside to talk to our Pakistani hosts, who poured me a large whisky and discussed economics and the stock market with grave faces.