Helena Frith Powell

Picture the scene: I am doing yoga looking out over a 90 degree view of Jumeirah Beach in Dubai from the comfort of the 34th floor. Someone is pressing the dress I am going to wear this evening to dinner with my husband in a private dining room. Two cleaners are mopping up the Jacuzzi room. Our butler has just served Rupert’s cup of Japanese green tea.

No I am not dreaming….we are celebrating Rupert’s birthday in the Imperial suite at the Fairmont Hotel in Dubai. It is a suite made for what the French would call a famille nombreuse with three double bedrooms, countless bathrooms, a bar and at least three offices. Oh and did I mention the Jacuzzi?

It is a comforting feeling having countless staff at your beck and call, ensuring you have a lovely life, that you are massaged (we had a double aromatherapy massage this afternoon), fed (they keep bringing fruit and chocolate) and watered (the champagne is on ice). I feel like a princess, which is something you can really only get to experience if you are very rich, or a lucky journalist.

And to think I was considering giving up journalism for a more lucrative career; seems to me the best option would be to stay and enjoy the perks. Now where’s my butler….?

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

Carla said this morning at breakfast that we should always remember this trip and how wonderful it has been. For example, if we get captured by Somali pirates we should think about how happy we were at Shreays and how beautiful it is.

I think these past few days I have understood must be what it is like being a princess. We are alone in this luxury retreat and treated like royalty. We probably wake up a bit earlier than your average princess, but that is to do yoga, so I don’t mind.

In case I ever do get kidnapped by Somali pirates I am going to list some of the special things about Shreyas here so I can remember them:

The tree opposite the yoga pavilion which I focus on when I do my tree pose

The flowers strewn over the tables at mealtimes

The ginger tea

The smiling zen staff

The sound of my yoga instructor’s voice when he says ‘balance’ and ‘be aware of’ whatever part of my body I am meant to be aware of or ‘very good’ which he doesn’t say very often

The amazing food; day after day

The dinners, always candlelit and in a different part of the garden

The crisp, clean, elegant swimming pool

The little garden with flowers and a tree in it outside our tent which is almost part of the bathroom (there is no wall)

The tall palm trees swaying gently in the wind

The massages from Jason who has magical hands

The library where you feel you could spend a lifetime reading all the books (not all, there are some terrible ones, left behind by people I assume when they realised how bad they were)

The morning and evening sun by the pool

The sound of birds all around

And just in case this list isn’t enough, here are some more photos…

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

It is said that women of a certain age discover either God or gardening. I have instead discovered yoga. I can’t imagine life without it. And in fact looking back, one of my earliest memories of my mother is of her with her arms under her legs in some impossible position with her chest and head flat on the floor.

I don’t quite know what took me so long. OK so I dabbled before, but now I really think it is something I need to do every day and something I will keep doing for as long as I can.

Here at Shreyas of course we do it twice a day. Yesterday was amazing. I even got my nose down onto one leg in a forward bend. Something I never thought I would be able to do.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever done that,” I told the teacher and Carla. We are the only guests here right now, total heaven.

“You’ve got to have a very big nose,” said Carla.

Between yoga sessions, massages and writing part two of my novel (12902 words done so far) I am reading up about yoga and what it means. The word itself means union; which makes sense. It is the only exercise I have ever done where your body and mind are united.

I suppose in some ways that makes it a bit like sex. But if I had the choise, right now I’d opt for yoga. I guess that makes me a woman of a certain age…..

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

So far the Shreyas retreat has come as close to my idea of an ideal way to live as I have ever experienced.

Set in the lush Indian countryside it has beautifully landscaped gardens, a yoga pavilion, lovely swimming pool and little tree-houses where you can chant, or just chill and read a book.

The food is outstanding; all vegetarian Indian. There is no alcohol but actually I don’t even mind.

The day begins at 7am with yoga, then breakfast then meditation and chanting. Following this there is free time until lunch when I work on the novel, have almost written 5000 words, not bad considering my brain is a little mushy to say the least. There is another yoga session at 4 and then dinner at 8. Dinner is in the garden, candlelit.

There are lovely touches all around, like flowers strewn on the tables and every time you take your shoes off to go inside someone comes and turns them around for when you come out again.

My friend Carla has arrived and it is lovely to be with her. There are also some lovely people staying here. I guess in a yoga retreat you’re unlikely to get any real plonkers.

OK there are times when I want to giggle, like this morning when I was sitting cross-legged with my fingers in my ears chanting. Happily Carla was in another class (the easier one, natch) so didn’t see me or I would have collapsed.

But most of the time I am really into the whole experience; the exercise, the breathing, the chanting and the feeling of total and utter blissful relaxation. They say in the literature that a holiday is actually a holy day. I’m not religious but this is as close to holy as I have ever felt. I can’t believe we have another week to go…..

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

Every week in the magazine we have a back page interview called Life Lessons where people I interview give their five life lessons. I have thought long and hard about what my life lessons would be and can only come up with a couple.

Treat everyone as your best friend would be one of them. This is what Ines de la Fressange told me when I thanked her for all her time and help with Two Lipsticks and a Lover.

Another would be to get the hairs on your legs lasered well before the age of 40. I could have written another book with all that time I spend shaving and waxing.

Last week I interviewed my lovely yoga teacher Ria. Her number one life lesson is Live your life without expectations. This is of course not a new concept. Benjamin Franklin once said: “Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” But it is really worth thinking about.

Over the weekend I expected nothing from the children and guess what? They behaved a lot better than normal. Although Leo did have a mini-tremor at one stage and told me “life is so frustrating at this age”. This was after he came out of the bathroom, his face covered in Hermes body lotion and asked me “do I look younger?”

Anyway the fact is if you expect nothing and get something you are overjoyed and if you get nothing you are not upset. So there’s really no downside. I have realised that the problem with my life so far has been high expectations. I expected all my books to become bestsellers and they didn’t (with the exception of Two Lipsticks which sold above the 10,000 copies required to classify it as a bestseller). This time I am just going to expect that it does nothing and so I will be pleasantly surprised if it does anything else. It may sound hard to do but once you get your head around it, it’s as easy as a forward bend. Easier in fact.

So here’s to a life of contentment with no expectations but lots of success. If that makes sense…..And not that I’m expecting it….

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

There are many things I would describe myself as; efficient, busy, prone to car-sickness, grumpy when tired to name a few, but not a party animal. In fact my ideal evening would normally include being in bed by 9.30 and often asleep before the children are.

Imagine my surprise then when I found myself dancing on my terrace at 5am New Year’s Day.

It is amazing how fast the hours between midnight and 5am go. One minute it’s 11.30 and you’re thinking; almost there, almost time to go to bed and then whooosh suddenly it’s 5am and you have danced to ‘I will survive’ and ‘Valerie’ 14 times each.

I have a theory that life is a little like this too. That the years after 40 accelerate and life just whizzes by.

So one of my New Year’s Resolutions is to have lots more parties.

It was great fun, but less fun when at 7am Leo came storming into our room. When I explained why I was so tired he looked very angry.

“Didn’t you think you would be tired for Rafa?”

Happily my interview had been and gone, but we were off to claim Bea’s raffle prize. When we got there, it was the Swedish player Robin Soderling and not Rafa, which Bea was fine with happily. And before you start complaining about the quality of the picture, I was probably still squiffy from the night before. At least they’re both in it, just.

Another one of my New Year’s resolutions is to speak more Swedish with them in case Soderling ever become the world number one (which is looking likely, he was great during the tournament).

All in all an amazing New Year; Rafa, parties, book deal, masses of tennis, our friends from France, lots of food and wine. Now it is time to get back to ‘normal’ life. Except for the odd party until 5 am that is….

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

For me it began with my birthday party – fabulous fun – and ended this morning when my in-laws went back home. Christmas Day was great; lunch around 4pm by which time Noch (see self-portrait below) and I had danced to most of the 80s hits on her i-pod.

This evening our great friends Jean-Claude and Alexandra arrive from France with their daughter Elisa, Olivia’s best friend, and Astrid, Leo’s girlfriend (although he denies it). We will have lots to do including the Capitala Tennis tournament (Rafa and Federer playing), a trip to the desert and a party to see in the New Year. If it is anything like my birthday, it will be a memorable end to the year. In any case I can’t wait to see them, although I worry I won’t be able to speak French any more.

Last night Rupert and I tried to think of the highlights of 2009. Very tricky. Especially after a long Christmas and not much sleep and a lot of wine, but we came up with…..

Olivia winning the two-hole championship and setting a club record

Bea winning the raffle to play with Rafa and Federer

Leonardo getting engaged but not knowing his fiancee’s name

The Savoie this summer (especially watching Wuthering Heights at Norrie and Mary’s and dinner at Mrs Wasta’s with the “talking bush”.)

Our trip to Rome (and especially making friends with my aunt again and watching the children discover ancient Rome, as well as seeing my parents who are thankfully just the same as always).

Interviewing Prince Andrew

and lots more, but the silly thing is one can never remember.

So what are my hopes for 2010? I hope I will get to do lots more interesting interviews and that the job will continue to be fun. I also hope that at some stage I will be able to do a full forward bend. I hope that the children will start to be a little easier to manage and not quite so demanding/difficult; mostly the girls, Leo is pretty easy to deal with most of the time and a joy for much of it.

And I hope inspiration hits me for a book because right now, despite encouraging comments from lovely readers like the one from Nina on the previous blog, I am not really sure what to do next. The novel does not look like it’s a goer and non-fiction is tricky with a full-time job. Added to which, you don’t really make any money from books. So maybe it’s time to stop and do something else? Seems strange to give up on the one thing I always wanted to do, but as Rupes says, at least I did it.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 200

Some things children say you never forget for some reason. Like when Hugo my stepson was about three and in a very solemn tone of voice declared that he was tired because “it’s been a long day”. Or Julia my stepdaughter would wake us up and say “it’s mornin’ time” or ask where the “titten” was instead of the kitten or when Olivia first went back to England after living in France for a couple of years and said “it’s mouille” as we walked down the steps from the plane, meaning it’s damp.

Leo has had a long day. His girlfriend was meant to come and play after school but didn’t make it. He is very serious about her, he even knows her name, unlike the last one.

Then he dropped his quiche on the floor (upside down on the carpet) which sent me into a fury. And to top it all after spending most of the afternoon cleaning the bathroom (I don’t know why he did, he just wanted to) the “gals” as he calls them have messed it up.

He has just collapsed into bed, almost weeping.

“I’m so tired,” he told me as I kissed him goodnight. “Tireder than a turtle walking.”

Now that’s what I call a long day……

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2009

As if you haven’t had enough of me and my encounters with celebs….anyway, in the light of the fuss surrounding his arrest I wanted to share this with you.

Back in, I think it was 1977, I was sitting in the Opera Cellar restaurant in Stockholm with my stepfather. At the time I was a teenager with film star aspirations. I wanted to be the next Audrey Hepburn.

Roman Polanski was seated at a nearby table and he kept staring at me. I of course had no idea who he was. My stepfather, however, did.

“If you’re really serious about being an actress then go and talk to him,” he said.

I was too shy to. But I often wonder how different my life might have been if I had and he had cast me as Tess instead of Natasha Kinski…..

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2009

Today was the first day back at school; “la rentree” as the French call it (with an accent which I cannot find here). In France it is akin to Christmas in importance. It is something you prepare for weeks in advance. I remember once a French friend of mine was thinking about getting a job in June. “But of course now it will have to wait until after la rentree,” she told me.

I have taken on this French custom and been planning today for weeks. For example I bought all their school kit in France to save me struggling to find it here, especially as all the shops are shut during daylight hours for Ramadan.

As we drove them to school Rupert and I remembered the rentree last year. We arrived at school in a taxi sweating and fretting, we had nowhere to live, no friends here, the children were not happy and we all felt totally unsettled, poor and miserable. I was ready to turn around and move back to France. It is amazing how much has changed. Sad as I was to leave France yesterday, I am really happy to be home. The children were perky and excited this morning despite the fact that I woke them up at what was 5am European time. Here they are ready to go.

We have a lovely home, our jobs are great, we have two cars and tonight we are invited to a big party with friends. We won’t dwell on Rupert’s mid-life-crisis-vehicle (Ford Mustang if you must know, with red leather seats) but the point is, if you had told me a year ago where we would be today I would not have believed you. I hope that doesn’t sound smug and of course our lives are not perfect. But it is nice to look back and feel you have moved upwards instead of downwards.

The major difference (apart from Rupes’s car) being how happy the children are to be back and how well they have taken the rentree this year.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2009