When Karen met Callie

Behind every great book is another story entirely, and I thought you might like to hear ours. If I had a pound for everyone who has told me I really should write a book about their life, I would now be reclining on my superyacht in a Heidi Klein bikini in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

So when I took a call one sunny Sunday morning in June two years ago from my lovely and very well meaning mother in law about a new book idea she had for me, I was a little sceptical.

Jean volunteers as a community car driver, ferrying people who can't drive themselves to and from hospital appointments. She had been chatting to a lady called Julia as she drove her to hospital. Julia was talking about her grandson Deryn and the remarkable recovery he was making following several years of illness and how much his mum Callie would like to write a book about him.

'My daughter in law is a writer and journalist, she's just written a book, maybe we should put them both in touch?' Jean volunteered. Julia agreed that it was a great idea. Jean could hardly contain herself and told me it would definitely be a bestseller. We chatted for a while longer and when she hung up, I went back to devouring the Sunday papers.

I couldn't get Deryn out of my head however, so I started checking out his story online. Sure enough, it stacked up to an amazing tale, a real triumph over tragedy which had already attracted quite a few headlines in the local and national press. I emailed Callie that afternoon to ask if she fancied having a chat about the possibility of working together on a book. She was overwhelmed and told me she had been waiting for something like this to happen. It seemed almost too serendipitous to be true. We kept in touch, and planned to meet up later that summer while I was visiting family in the UK.

I'll never forget the first time I saw her. We had arranged to have lunch together at a gastro pub in a small village near her home in Watton. I didn't really know what to expect but I had a warm feeling inside when this exuberant yet nervous bundle of smiles with bright pink hair walked towards me. Several hours later, we were still sitting there, my dictaphone running as she relayed the most amazing story of Deryn's incredible battle for survival to me. It's fair to say I was hooked from that moment.

She took me to meet her lovely mum Julia and a somewhat shy but utterly charming Deryn, together with his little brother Dylan and I drove back to Jean's that evening feeling like something pretty momentous had happened that day.

Callie and I knew we had an amazing story to tell but we had no real idea at that stage just how much it would captivate the rest of the world. All we knew was that it needed to be told, frankly and fully with no punches pulled, and that it might, just might, change attitudes towards alternative treatments for pain relief and critical illness. It was a huge risk for her to tell the story as honestly as she has done but it was never an issue for her.

You will have read, heard and watched much over the last 12 days about Deryn's inspiring and courageous story of survival but there is so much more to the The Boy in 7 Billion than the headlines and news stories of the last week or two. It's on sale from today so if you happen to walk past a Smiths or Waterstone's, please pop in and take a picture of it on the shelf for me.

Serendipity, fate, a miracle....call it what you like, one thing I can tell you is that this book will restore your faith in hope, human nature and the goodness that is all around us if you look hard enough.

Three shots a day keeps the doctor away

Happy new year! After eagerly blurting out that I was going to be blogging regularly every week, it’s with some shame that I notice the last time I posted here was nine months ago. Oops.

In my defence, I have been very busy with some amazing new projects, helping to edit a wonderful book called And Breathe with Rebecca Dennis, which is now in all good bookshops and currently flying off the shelves, as well as writing another book which is being published this spring…more on that to come soon.

Fresh from an amazing New Year spent in Vietnam en famille, I’m kicking off 2017 with a timely little heads up for anyone who is feeling the effects of too much carousing, drinking and eating over the festive season.

As we checked into our hotel on the beach in the glorious and unspoiled south of Vietnam a couple of weeks ago, I spotted the spa and hotfooted it over to check out the treatments before even unpacking my case. A daily massage was included – a choice of shiatsu with bamboo, aromatherapy, Thai tiger or hot and cold stone EVERY day – what joy!

Then I spotted a little wooden sign on the spa reception desk. ‘Pick up your daily three shots at My Soul spa before meals’, it said. Wow, this is a forward thinking spa, I thought, who knew it was good to neck tequila before being manipulated by the tiny but amazingly powerful and talented masseuses?

These shots are as powerful as any tequila but they are also a whole lot better for you. The Balinese spa manager Yoman makes up a potent cocktail of different shots every morning aimed at boosting metabolism, immunity and detoxification, combatting ageing, reducing inflammation, improving skin tone, digestion and bowel function. Yoman has spent years setting up holistic spas in Bali and Vietnam and what he doesn’t know about how to get your body working for you isn’t worth knowing frankly.

We all signed up on the spot as it is something the Vietnamese, and other Eastern cultures, have been doing since time immemorium to keep the doctor at bay naturally. My favourite was the ginger, turmeric and lemon shot. The apple cider vinegar and honey shot was an acquired taste but the ginger, lemon and cayenne was also quite palatable.

Within a few days, I felt energised in a way I didn’t expect, and my body seemed to be working at an optimum level, despite the odd cocktail or glass of bubbly in the evening. I wasn’t the only one to notice a difference. Everyone else reported feeling energised, with improved bowel and digestion function and this was after just a couple of days.

The trick is to stick to one type of shot all day and not mix them up, but you can make three in advance first thing in the morning and stick the other two in the fridge. Who knows if I will keep it up but even if I can do a three or four days a week, it’s got to be better than nothing, right?

You can see my efforts from this morning here. To make three ginger, lemon and turmeric shots, I blitzed three lemons, a large knob of ginger, two capsules of powdered turmeric and a tiny amount of water to loosen the mixture (if you can find fresh turmeric root, even better.)

Like tequila, it’s best knocked back in one go, with a small glass of water afterwards if you need it. Let me know how you get on!

Getting Inspired

I'll admit it. Food has become my life. It comforts, heals and energises and there are few greater buzzes than a wander around the Monday morning market at Pre du Lac, checking out all the local sellers and buying whatever happens to be in season to concoct a delicious lunch or supper. Well okay, a little trip to Cape Town (where the food is amazing) probably tops that but my average Monday is all the brighter for a mooch among the familiar stalls.

Yesterday I bought some of what has to be the last courge (butternut squash) of the season, which was grown just down the road in Vallauris, 20 minutes drive from here. Radishes and a little chèvre rond from the local goat's cheese producer and voilà, suddenly I had the key ingredients for a delicious and colourful lunch based on a dish I ate a couple of weeks ago at a lovely little cafe in Camps Bay.

When people ask me about recipes for getting inspired in the kitchen, my advice is to pick the freshest, lushest looking produce available and get experimental with it. There's very little you can't jazz up with lime juice and the holy trinity of ginger, garlic and chilli.

On a chilly day, a seasonal veg or two simmered in a fresh stock with herbs and blitzed when cool makes the most filling and nutritious soup you could ask for. It guards against infection, builds immunity and fills you with protective vitamins and minerals as well as plant chemicals and enzymes which improve digestion, boost resistance and fight off illness.

And when the sun's out, the challenge is to get as many colourful fruits and veggies on the plate as possible along with a little protein, (halloumi, feta or goat's cheese maybe), a drizzle of home made dressing and a few fresh herbs scattered across the top. I defy you to crave a KFC or double cheeseburger after that. And if you do get a craving, check out this graphic on what to go for instead.

Last week I met one of the directors of Breast Cancer Now, the UK's largest breast cancer charity , to talk about the importance of diet and nutritional advice at point of diagnosis. It was fantastically productive and really gave me a glimmer of hope that things are changing, slowly but surely. But you don't need to wait until you get ill to start eating better....

The cliche you are what you eat has never been more true, so make sure it's a rainbow of beautiful fresh locally sourced or home grown produce and you can't go too far wrong.

Cape Town Rainbow Salad

This is one of those ‘use what’s left in the fridge’ salads. You can swap ingredients if certain things are hold to get hold of (roasted carrots for roasted squash, goat’s cheese for feta, watercress or rocket for spinach etc). It’s colourful and delicious, and the tartness of the goat’s cheese works beautifully with radishes and the sweet nuttiness of the squash – summer on a plate! I tried this in Cape Town a couple of weeks ago, where they used spinach leaves, feta and no pomegranate, rosemary or courgette – it was just as delicious.

200g butternut squash or carrots, chopped roughly into thumb size pieces
2 large handfuls watercress, spinach or rocket
I small young courgette, finely sliced
Sml handful toasted pine nuts
Six sun dried tomatoes (drained from oil and cut in half longways)
I small round goat’s cheese (I buy mine at the market) or 100g crumbled feta
Five radishes, washed, trimmed and cut in half
1 sprig rosemary leaves (optional)
Sml handful pomegranate seeds (optional)
Fresh home made vinaigrette (recipe in guide)

Toss the squash in extra virgin olive oil and roast for 15 mins until lightly browned. Leave to cool. Lightly coat the thin courgette slices in leftover oilive oil and lightly fry in a dry frying pan for a minute or two on each side. Remove and leave to cool. Toast the pine nuts for a couple of minutes in the same pan and reserve in a bowl.

Place a handful of salad greens on the plate, arrange the tomatoes and radishes in the leaves then layer the cool courgettes across the top. Add the cooled squash, cheese, pine nuts and drizzle with vinaigrette. If you’re adding pomegranate and rosemary, do this last.

Grow Your Own

This time of year is wonderful for a forage around on my walks with the dogs. Spring is sprung and everything is starting to bloom which is perfect timing for Bar sur Loup’s annual Fete de l’Oranger at Easter, when the whole village is decked with oranges and the main street is lined with stalls selling home made orange produce, be it vin d’orange, marmalade, cakes or sweets.

Depending on the time of year, you can find figs, grapefruits, olives, lemons and, of course, oranges (this is the orange valley after all) on my walk. Our mandarin tree is heavy with fruit right now so I came up with a great twist for dessert. Squeeze the juice from three mandarins into a pot of mascarpone and mix well along with the finely chopped rind from half a mandarin. Serve a spoonful (or two) with a piece of gluten free chocolate mud pie…delicious!

There is nothing quite like growing your own, wandering around the garden in the sunshine with a basket collecting figs, plums, chives, parsley, lemons, mandarins and rosemary. Cutting strands of herbs from pots on the windowsill is better than taking them out of a plastic packet in the fridge. But if you can’t grow your own, it makes sense to buy from the local producers who sell seasonal fresh fruit and veg at daily markets.

I have been buying from them for some years now, and if I happen to grab the odd bunch of carrots from a supermarket, Issy (who likes hers raw) refuses to eat them because they taste of chemicals. She solemnly advised me to avoid Spanish produce because it’s high in GMO. Another good reason to buy from local French and Italian growers.

I have just finished marinading my first harvest of olives. The crop wasn’t as plentiful this year but they still taste good, especially when rinsed and marinaded in some fresh lemon juice, garlic and rosemary.

It’s inevitable that I would talk about food today after a week-long stint at the VivaMayr clinic in Austria. When you are existing on 600 calories a day, it’s not surprising that you become obsessed by food. At one meal, I nearly cried when I dropped a cracker on the floor. If the dining room had been less busy, I would have picked it up and wolfed it down without a second thought.

On the upside, I did emerge a few weeks ago feeling lighter, brighter and more energetic after a barrage of exotic and bizarre beauty and medical treatments that keep Hollywood’s A list and various European heads of state running back for more. You can read all about my adventure in Austria in the first of my reports in The Good Spa Guide (spot the deliberate mistake regarding my age!)

As if one hard-core detox was not enough, I did a second self-imposed one last week to keep the FiveDays gang company. It was a walk in the park compared to vegetable broth, herbal tea and not much else in Austria. We finished last Friday with lots of fab feedback, kilos shed and people experiencing less inflammation, better sleep patterns and all round better general health than they had at the start of the week. If that doesn’t deserve a glass of champagne, I don’t know what does. I'm currently road-testing some delicious vegetarian spring recipes for the next FiveDays in early April.

Helen sent me a great tip for making pineapple tea using the skin and core of a fresh pineapple from a great blog called Food52.com. Now that the sun is shining, it's definitely one to try.

Bon weekend!

Perhaps The Best Work Trip Ever....

For the last couple of weeks, my head has been stuck in a book called The Swiss Secret to Optimal Health by Dr Thomas Rau. The Swiss know a thing or two about health. They have mountains to ski down, lakes to swim in and doctors who are light years ahead in terms of 21st century thinking on nutrition, digestion and the correct diet to follow to avoid disease and achieve great bien-etre.

Dr Rau’s Way is an oft repeated mantra in the book…and his way is an alkalising diet, lots of soups and green leafy vegetables, no fresh fruit after 4pm (it can ferment in the gut and place stress on the liver), no processed foods and a little of what you fancy from time to time.

It makes perfect sense to me, so much so that I am off to find out more this weekend, not at Dr Rau’s Swiss clinic, but at the world renowned VivaMayr Clinic in the spectacular Austrian mountain resort of Lake Maria Worth.

Now I’ve been lucky enough to land some very jammy press trips over the years (brace yourself *namedrop alert….Tahiti, Bora Bora, Australia, South Africa, Zambia, the Maldives…) but never have I had the reactions I am getting when I tell friends I am off to experience the Detoxification Cure at the VivaMayr.

‘Whaaat?’ ‘Sooo unfair,’ and ‘How the hell did you wangle that?’ has been the general consensus. After breathlessly ranting to Milly about the treatments on offer, she could barely contain herself. ‘You are the only person I know who has ever actually looked forward to a colonic irrigation,’ she mused.

It’s tough at the coalface of international investigative journalism but someone has to do these jobs and it might as well be me. You can read all about my adventures and colonics in The Good Spa Guide when I get back.

Readers including my dear husband will be relieved to hear that apart from undergoing the rigours of massages, relaxation techniques, yoga, mountain hikes and hydrotherapy, I will also be doing some real work in the shape of an interview with one of the Mayr’s leading medics Dr Schuscha.

While I have plenty of questions of my own to ask, I am intrigued to know what the biggest and most pressing health concerns are amongst my generation of 40-somethings, so if you want to pitch in with a question for the good doctor, please feel free. How to keep middle aged spread at bay seems to be top of the list so far.

Meanwhile, following a very successful FiveDays programme last week, I am back on the recipe trail testing out new dishes to add to the next plan which starts at the end of this month.

It’s been a busy week so I missed Shrove Tuesday but made up for it with pancake Thursday this morning. Use 100ml almond milk, 65g spelt flour and a dash of vanilla to make the most scrummy light and healthy pancakes. Cook them in a tiny blob of hot coconut oil, then serve with freshly squeezed lemon juice, xylitol and some fruit. I might need to conjure these up in my head next week when I am chewing 80 times per mouthful on three-day old rye bread at the Mayr (apparently learning to chew properly is one of their specialities.)

I experimented with the recipe below after wondering what to do with the almond meal that was left over every time I make my own almond milk. It is gluten, refined sugar and dairy free and delicious with a moistness that is missing from the flour only version. Only problem is, I am baking one every two days!

Gluten-free Banana and Almond Bread

100g spelt flour
75g almond meal (from home made almond milk)
½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
2 teaspoons gluten free baking powder
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract/vanilla pod
Good shake of sea or Himalayan salt
125g organic butter
100ml organic agave syrup
2 large eggs
3 medium bananas, mashed

Mix the flour, almond meal, baking powder, salt and bicarbonate of soda together and set aside. Melt the butter in a pan on low heat, remove from the heat and mix in the agave syrup. Once cooled, whisk in both eggs and then the mashed bananas and vanilla.
Gradually beat in the flour mixture until you have a batter. Pour into a greased and lined loaf tin and bake at 170 degrees centigrade for around one hour. Allow to cool in the tin for five minutes before turning onto a rack. Delicious with a cup of green tea!

Okay...just one more picture as you asked so nicely.....(screams inwardly).

I'll Be Your Substitute

I vividly remember the first time I went into a health food shop with an actual list. It was almost five years ago and on the advice on my nutritionist Simone, I was looking for healthier substitutes for sugar, regular flour and dairy produce. It was another planet to me. I had no idea what I should be looking for as I wasn’t familiar with half the things on my list in English, let alone in French.

There were few disasters. (Soy cream…do not even go there. It is DISGUSTING.) Rice milk (I’m aware rice milk has its fans…some of them are even my friends…but it doesn’t do it for me.) And does anyone out there actually like quinoa crisp breads? Mine tasted like pieces of old cardboard and soaked up so much saliva that I couldn’t physically swallow them unless they were slathered in Boursin or taramasalata, thereby rather defeating the object.) Let the photo above be a warning to you.

In fact, look closely and see if you can tell the difference between the crackers and a piece of old cardboard. I thought so.

There were some success stories too. Green tea (who knew this would replace my daily morning cup of beloved Earl Grey?) Vollkornbrot (in other words, rye bread which is delicious for breakfast if it’s well, and I mean well, toasted with scrambled eggs, bananas and linseeds or mashed avocado and black pepper.) Best of all, unlike normal bread, it doesn’t make me look five months pregnant after one slice. Spelt flour (hurrah, I didn’t have to give up banana bread or lemon drizzle cake, I just had to start baking my own.) Dark chocolate (as a self confessed chocoholic, I thought I would struggle with the milk/dark swap. I didn’t. I merely replaced one addiction with another.)

There’s competition for the top spot but I’m going with Xylitol as my favourite and most life changing discovery in a health food store. A natural birch sugar, it looks suspiciously like refined Tate & Lyle, works in baking and on pancakes and has figured in more than 300 studies indicating it can play a significant role in preventing – and even reversing – tooth decay. Best of all, it tastes nice. Try it, you won't look back. As you can see from the picture below, home made always beats shop bought hands down.

Of course, the biggest challenge was making these ingredients seem normal in a house containing two teenagers and a man with a very sweet tooth. In truth, I am still working on that one but it’s gratifying that for the most part, my cakes and bakes get eaten eventually (and not just by me.) Sometimes they even get a raised eyebrow followed by a bemused ‘This actually tastes really nice! Obviously you didn’t use your ‘special’ ingredients today.’ Er, yes I did.

You’ll know I’m not normal when I tell you that these days, I prefer to spend an hour browsing around my favourite little ‘indie’ stores in Lewes, Twickenham, Greenwich and Mouans Sartoux talking to the usually very well informed assistants about turmeric tablets instead of languishing in the furniture section of Heals or Liberty’s shoe hall. It’s also easier on the bank balance, and that’s one thing him indoors is eternally grateful for. Even if it does mean beetroot brownies for dessert.

Food Wars and the ‘FiveDays’ Clean Eating Plan

Those of you who are regular readers of my blog and have also read Breathing Out will know that my youngest daughter is perhaps my sternest critic and the one I have never quite managed to win over on the food front. We have had many food wars over the years - not unusual for a mother and a sugar addicted teenager, I know.

So when she recently started quizzing me about the best health supplements to take and volunteered to quit the junk and start eating a greener diet, you could say I felt I had finally arrived. All those years of gluten free and sugar free baking are finally coming good!

Over the last five years, I have learned an enormous amount about nutrition and healing yourself through food and exercise. It wasn’t a career plan for me, it was a necessity after being struck down by a critical illness. It didn’t take much research for me to decide to make food one of my doctors.

Since then, I have given advice to dozens of people with health issues, addressed a major medical conference, met with the UK government’s Chief Cancer Advisor at the Department of Health and influenced leading oncologists to embrace diet as an additional route to treating cancer patients.

Modesty sadly does not prevent me from telling you that I was also a key in the foundation of The Super Elixir, the world's leading super greens supplement, introducing Elle Macpherson to my amazing Harley Street nutritionist Dr Simone Laubscher, and the two subsequently went onto develop The Super Elixir together. Here are Simone and me celebrating the first anniversary at Elle's super fabulous supper at the Grace Belgravia last October.

There's a pattern forming here, right?

I love cooking and my best days are spent experimenting with ingredients, creating and adapting recipes and trying them out on friends and family. I'm passionate about health and fitness too, so combining the two to create a simple, delicious, easy to implement eating plan that will educate, illuminate and give you the foundations for a cleaner, healthier lifestyle (without forgoing the fun) seems like a no brainer to me.

It's not a weight loss plan and yet the pounds seem to drop off quite naturally. The really clever bit, however, is being able to maintain what you have achieved. It's not rocket science but it works, as my two guinea pigs Paula and Karin will attest.

Here’s what Paula, a journalist and personal trainer who founded the Fitter, Stronger retreat with Olympic Rowing champion James Cracknell at Chewton Glen in Hampshire, had to say about it.

‘I thought a five-day detox – my first ever – would be hard work. In fact, I really enjoyed it! I’ve learned a lot more about my body and how it reacts to what I put inside it.

‘I stopped feeling bloated, was generally more alert and had more concentration. I had much more energy than I expected too. I used to feel tired by 9pm but on the plan I didn’t feel sleepy until 11pm or later.

‘After five days, I had lost 5.5 lbs and friends remarked how well I looked and how sparkly my eyes were. I would definitely do this again every two to three months and have already recommended it to friends. Thanks Karen!’

Karin had this to say. ‘I have been on a diet for most of my life (and just got bigger!) Every time I try and be good, I fall off the wagon quite quickly. I have been successful when I’ve attended weekly meetings with Slimming World and Weight Watchers.

‘I know how important regular check-ins and motivations are. Karen’s programme and the frequency of supportive texts and messages within our group made me feel she was there watching me and meant that I didn’t want to cheat, I wanted to push on…and that’s a first for me!

‘Added to that, the recipes are so tasty and filling that I never felt hungry. After five days, I feel great! I’m brighter and definitely less tired in the evening.’

As of next month, I am going to be running a regular ‘FiveDays’ Clean Eating Plan which can be done physically here in France or remotely wherever you are in the world. Here’s what I can promise you…it won’t be difficult to stick to, it won’t run across a weekend (because we all deserve some joy…and bubbles…after a hard week), you won’t feel hungry and you will be eating delicious, nutritious food. It’s not a diet – I hate that word and don’t believe in diets – it’s a lifestyle that can be incorporated into your regular family way of eating.

Please sign up on the blog to keep posted and get in touch with me on karenhockney@hotmail.com if you would like to find out more!

Meanwhile, it's a busy week for health orientated features. My review of the Fitter, Stronger retreat, where the emphasis is on embracing nutrition and fitness as a way back from serious illness or injury, appeared in S magazine (that's me on the left being put through my paces by trainer Mitch).

And my chat over this delicious alkalising supper with The Body aka Elle about how she healed herself and launched a dynamic new business as a result is the cover interview in this month’s Red. Enjoy!

New Year, New You (and me)

New year, new you. It’s a familiar mantra at this time of year, and like the rest of the population, I find myself getting sucked into the idea of making changes and my head gets filled with all the things I should be doing.

However, this January, I’m swapping ‘should’ for ‘want to’. (My husband would argue that I have been doing this for quite some time already. What does he know?)

Anyone who knows me knows that I am mildly incredibly obsessed by health, nutrition and fitness. I run races with myself for God’s sake. I avidly read all the latest health research. I take photographs of virtually every shake, salad and veggie dish I concoct and post them shamelessly on Instagram as if I am Deliciously Ella. I even trick my daughters into eating gluten free cakes while pretending I have run out of spelt flour. Sick, I know.

Many people from all over the world contact me to talk about nutrition so it feels like a natural progression that this blog, which I started in 2008, should morph into a food/health/fitness story. I can share all the tasty recipes I have spent hours creating, as well as any other amazing discoveries that I want to tell the world about, be they health spas, exciting new ingredients, books or just all round great products which make you look good and feel even better. After all, we all need a helping hand and some encouragement to be the very best we can be (okay I’m stopping with the therapy speak now.)

Living in the South of France is like being based in the middle of a beautiful open air gym - it simply abounds with hiking and running trails (even if they are all hilly), beautiful coves where you can swim or paddle board year-round, and of course the local ski resorts (sadly sparsely covered in fake snow at the moment but that should change soon.)

It’s easy to be healthy here with so much locally grown fresh fruit, vegetables and Mediterranean peche du jour freely available…but it’s also very tempting to stray into Pain, Vin et Boursin territory too. I should know, I have spent the last three weeks swigging Champagne and Prosecco at pre and post Xmas parties and eating my own bodyweight in delicious, saucy, fattening home made pasta dishes and over ripe cheeses in glorious Italia (when in Rome etc, except I was in Tuscany.)

So while I have no intention of going all holier than thou on you and permanently giving up the marvellous Provence rose, fabulous Seniz Champagne (how could I, when the Seniz family thoughtfully vacated their chateau up north to relocate a 10-minute drive from my house) scrummy moules frites or my guilty pleasure, a plate of fully loaded nachos, I will be sharing some hopefully cool new ideas on how to make 2016 the best and healthiest year of your life so far. A big boast, let’s see if I can live up to it.

As I write this, I am midway through a five-day Happy New Year detox with two UK friends who very sweetly asked me to act as their guru. So far, so good, we’re all a bit hungry (nothing wrong with that) but we are making each other laugh on Messenger and have already lost the Noel bloat (Christmas, not Edmonds, although he might want to join us) and are feeling energised and full of beans. I think the lentils and chick peas obviously help here.

So, my top tips for a healthy start to 2016 are:

• Begin each day with a large mug of hot (not boiling) water, fresh lemon juice and a dash of cayenne. It’s brushing your teeth for your stomach, as my lovely nutritionist Simone always told me.
• Start reading Guilia Enders’ brilliant bestseller Gut, for an up close and no holds barred look at the workings of perhaps our most versatile organ.
• I happen to like exercise but no-one needs to sweat it out for an hour or two at the gym. Half an hour of brisk walking five days a week or seven (days, not minutes) is better. Walk the dog, swim, do some yoga, whatever floats your boat.
• If you want shiny hair, clearer skin and more energy, drink a super greens smoothie or juice every day.
• Take turmeric tablets. I have been adding turmeric to soups, curries and casseroles for years but the capsules are even easier. It’s a known anti-inflammatory and one of the true superfood ingredients.
• Add fresh herbs to as many dishes as possible. Make mint tea with fresh mint leaves, not a tea bag.
• Swap your morning coffee or English Breakfast tea for green tea. In fact, if you do just one thing on this list, make it this one.

It’s great to have you on this journey. I’m off to demolish a bowl of curried parsnip soup….the recipe is below.

Curried Parsnip Soup

Three parsnips, peeled and chopped into batons
Two garlic cloves, chopped
1 litre organic vegetable stock 
I heaped teaspoon curry powder
I heaped teaspoon turmeric (or fresh chopped turmeric root)
Salt and pepper
Fresh parsley to serve

Place the parsnips in the stock and bring to a simmer. Stir in the spices and leave to cook for 20 minutes. Allow to cool, then blitz in the blender and reheat gently adding seasoning to taste and chopped parsley.

Liven up that Liver!

A two week liver cleanse. How hard could it really be? I have to admit I went into it feeling more than a little smug. After all, I have been an avid disciple of the 80/20 style of eating for four years now on the advice of my London nutritionist. Eating this way and avoiding too much gluten, dairy, refined sugar, alcohol and bad fats has become a way of life for me. Liver, schmiver. I was going to kill this.

How wrong I was. Speaking from the comfort of reaching day 10 (and on my third and, hallelujah, ye gods alive, last day of liquids only) I had no idea just how tough it would be. Or how good I could actually feel depriving myself of many of the foods that I usually really enjoy.

It helps when two of you are doing it together and I don't have to look longingly across the table at hubby tucking into fish and chips with a glass of Chablis while I demolish my falafel, lentil and squash salad (delicious though it is) accompanied by a glass of eau plat.

It doesn't help when your 16 year old daughter - who could walk The Great British Bake Off - decides to turn into Cooking Mama in the absence of any solid food on offer and start baking Millionaire's Shortbread and making her own spicy chicken goujons and home made fries (I don't even eat chicken but still found myself drooling.) The shortbreads are stacked enticingly in the fridge, silently mouthing 'eat me, eat me' every time I open the fridge door. I have insisted we freeze a few down so I don't lose the plot.

But I digress. Back to the benefits. Within four days, I noticed that I was sleeping longer and more deeply right through the night (instead of waking at 2 or 3am and lying there fidgeting for an hour or two.) I'm guessing this is due to the lack of stimulants (alcohol, caffeine, gluten) washing around my body. I feel refreshed every morning and ready for the day as soon as I wake (this is not my usual state, I assure you).

And, shallow I know, but the cosy little muffin top that has been keeping my midriff warm for the last two years is gone. Yup, gone. Today I tried on a ridiculously small pair of Zara Capri pants that I bought on a mad whim two years ago and have barely worn due to the fact that I couldn't sit/eat/breathe out while wearing them. They fitted - snugly, yes - but comfortably enough to be requisitioned back from my daughter's closet and into my own.

We all have our reasons for doing the liver cleanse. Mine was to give my body a recharge after a particularly manic and social summer/autumn before the onslaught of Christmas party excess. It has forced me to keep my diary freer than it has been for many months - definitely no bad thing - and even make some time for the odd decadent essential oil filled bath, complete with detoxifying Epsom Salts, which is something I am always too busy to do.

It also encouraged me to think about my goals (thanks Emma) and be proactive about the future. A healthy body and mind have always been top of my list but if a by-product is fitting comfortably into my gorgeous Roksanda Ilincic figure hugging dress for a glamorous Christmas party, then I'll take that too, thanks!

In the interests of balance, there have been a few downsides aside from my kitchen turning into the Cote d'Azur offshoot of The Hummingbird Bakery. I have been hungry since the day I started, despite copious Nourishing Protein shakes, super green smoothies and many an afternoon spent concocting new dishes from the recipes Christine and Jess have kindly supplied. Maybe I'm not eating enough I thought, until hubby accused me of sabotaging his weight loss programme by putting too MUCH on the plate (that's what cooking while ravenous does to you). He reckons it was easier when he was doing it by himself!

I have discovered that I miss tomatoes, aubergines and my beloved bananas on rye more than I miss alcohol. Also, that chewing is underrated. I am peeing about three times more than usual (that is the toxins rushing for the door according to Christine, so all good despite the inconvenience of needing a convenience every half an hour.)

On the plus side, I have really enjoyed getting out of my comfort zone to create a few extra healthy breakfast, lunch and supper dishes that mix it up a little and make it less boring for the folks. The support from the rest of the group has been amazing and I haven't suffered the headaches and other niggles that a few of my cleanse friends have experienced.

With just a few days left to go and the prospect of a delicious Sunday lunch out to celebrate that fact, the 64 million dollar question is, would I do it again? Hell yes. Sign me up for March!

Clooney and me

This week I went to see my consultant Clooney, aka Dr Lanvin, for the dreaded six monthly check up to make sure tout va bien. Much as I like him, it’s not a rendezvous I look forward to but I had been so stressed about whether or not my Indian visa would arrive in time for my trip to Kerala that I didn’t have the time or energy to get as worked up about the appointment as I usually do.

I’ve had amazing feedback for Breathing Out since it launched last spring, from friends and family but perhaps more importantly, from perfect strangers, cancer patients and the medical profession. So it was wonderful to hear that Clooney is sending copies out to his fellow oncologist colleagues in Canada, where he worked before arriving at the Tzanck. He told me it is the perfect tool not only for sufferers who don’t know where to turn but also for doctors as a window on the world of their patients. High praise indeed. I think I blushed.

With a snazzy new reprint just out thanks to Urbane Publications, the promotional wheels are rolling once again and my publisher Matthew and I have grand plans in mind for how to achieve world domination so watch this space.

In other news, I got the thumbs up after all my tests (corks popping) so that’s three and a half years down and 18 months to go until the magic five year remission wand can be waved. Following the arrival of my passport and visa JUST THREE DAYS AGO, today’s blog needs to be short and sweet so I can finish packing and get on that plane. Shanti.

The Over 40s Guide to Surviving Teens

Yesterday morning, I was rolling up in bed reading the funniest myths on new baby motherhood busted by the very talented and acerbic witted Zeena Moolla.

Allow me to continue the case for not having children, sorry I mean surviving the teenage years.

1. You will never be right again. Remember those dinner table discussions when they were going through that fairly irritating phase of asking why, why, why to everything? Well, you taught them so well to question the status quo and form an opinion that they can now whip you into knots of contradiction on any given subject from exam revision to Islamic State.

2. They are prolific liars. They will only be ill around 15% of the time they convince you to keep them off school. Don't try and cuddle them or fuss around them. Having royally duped you, all they want is to sleep til noon, Snapchat their mates, Instagram their mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows 15 different ways and catch up on back to back episodes of CSI and MIC under the covers on their iPad.

3. Your new name is Ladycabs. Pick-up time from a party (referred to as a gathering in order to lose the alcohol connotation) at 11pm is not cool, only post-midnight pick-ups are acceptable. Whatever you do, DO NOT get out of the car, speak to any of their friends or perish the thought, ring on the doorbell. Just sit in the car pressing redial until they finally deign to pick up. Bang goes your bottle of Gavi in front of Friday night telly but if you dare to complain, they will just ask for a Vespa instead.

4. Everything that goes wrong will always be your fault. Not to be confused with point 1. So if Jane makes you take a wrong turn on SatNav, someone crashes into the back of you in traffic, they need to start wearing a brace or Sainsbury’s runs out of chocolate coated Krispy Kremes, you will be to blame.

5. Imagine your wardrobe as a kind of free shopping experience where no money changes hands, no permission is asked and your most coveted pieces go missing for days, nay weeks at a time before resurfacing in a screwed up ball under the bed, covered in hot chocolate or the bottom reaches of their wardrobe along with old biscuit wrappers and dirty PE kit. If, however, you dare to borrow so much as one pair of bobbly tights, you will be branded the bitch from hell for not asking first.

6. Your precious little collection of make-up and skincare that has taken years to fine tune will start to go missing, a mascara or brow liner at a time, around the time they hit 13. It doesn't matter that you spent a fortune buying everything they needed from Rimmel London, they will still prefer your ancient old Lancôme Hypnose mascara and the brand new Laura Mercier tinted moisturiser that a PR has just sent you. Try not to lose the plot when they use your Creme de la Mer as aftersun.

7. When it comes to anything technical, accept that you are just a loser from another century while they became proficient on a PC before they knew the words to Pat a Cake. Expect a dramatic eye roll and a demand for hard cash if you ask them to a. Download photos from your phone, b. Make you a playlist or c. Make you a cup of tea while you try and fathom it out yourself.

8. Around 80% of the time, they will be hormonal, moody and have a face like a slapped arse. Smiles are index linked to being paid to walk the dog they begged and pleaded for, a trip to New York and getting everything on their Christmas list (even though they stopped believing in Santa at least five years ago).

9. Do not leave loose change or chocolate on any surface. The bottom salad drawer below a large stockpile of kale, broccoli and celery should work as a hiding place. They don't touch or eat vegetables in any form.

10. That 30 minute run they have suddenly started going out for on freezing cold dark winter evenings is a sneaky smoking break, snog/flirt or both with their latest crush up the road. Note the lack of sweat/red cheeks when they return, although in truth you will be grateful for the lack of sweat/red cheeks.

The Upside? Just as you have gotten used to being public enemy number one, at around 16, they suddenly realise that you're actually not that bad after all.

Je suis Charlie

It’s hard to put into words the devastation and sickening fear I felt watching Sky news this afternoon as they showed footage of the extremists who massacred a newsroom of journalists and cartoonists at Charlie Hebdo in Paris.

War correspondent friends of mine have talked before of the deep dread and impending sense of doom that they feel 24 hours a day when they are on assignment in dangerous places around the world, notably the Middle East. They get used to expecting something bad to happen but nothing can prepare you for the war coming to your own front door. As a journalist in a Western capital, the idea that you might be shot dead during morning conference while discussing ideas for an upcoming magazine issue is simply beyond belief.

Observing the two gunmen as they fired rounds of ammunition in a deathly quiet Parisian street before virtually ambling back to their car as they gloated loudly at the bloodshed they had caused, I was struck first by their almost comic insouciance. No sense of urgency, they looked bungling and one even paused to pick up a shoe and throw it into the back of the car before they headed off at a relaxed rather than breakneck pace into the anonymous city traffic. I guess it’s easy to be brave with a Kalashnikov in your hands.

It’s a sad day for journalism, freedom of speech and the right to an uncensored press when a group of talented professionals is gunned down in cold blood in their place of work for daring to have a sense of irreverence. Will we now see armed guards stationed at the entrances of PA, Reuters and the BBC?

I remember feeling a sense of excitement when I started training as a journalist, almost 30 years ago. Whether doing the bacon sandwich run at 6.30am for the rest of my office, taking copy (long before PCs and email) or being sent to cover my first major trial at the Old Bailey, the pure adrenaline buzz of starting my longed for career in newspapers was unforgettable. Would I advise my daughters to embark on a career in journalism now? I'm not sure, much as I still love the job I do.

Writing a blog to stand up and be counted and say this is unacceptable is a small thing to do. What we all need to show now is solidarity in the face of such unimaginable tragedy. Anger, yes, action, yes, acceptance, never.

Happy

I'm going to keep this short and sweet. We have had a mega Christmas with lots of visitors, Christmas markets, champagne, card games, Perudo, even charades. Oh, and lots and lots of food. It's at this time of the year that I think how lucky I am to have such amazing friends and family. Christmas saw 11 of us Kershaws, Hockneys and Bradleys around the same table....amazing.

Tonight we are heading to my favourite restaurant (of all time) Ecole des Filles for a gastronomic New Year's Eve celebration with a few great friends. In a minute I am going to put on my make up to the sound of Nihils Help Our Souls, the Urban Contact Remix. If you are feeling a little party pooped and in need of a little lift or a second wind, play this track, it is an infectious disco tune that I promise will make you want to dance.

Then I am going to pour myself a glass of this little beauty and raise it to the year that was 2014. It wasn't perfect but it certainly had its moments. My wish for 2015 is that everyone I love has a brilliant, fun, healthy, laughter filled year. I'm not going to waste time worrying about things I can't change. I am going to embrace and enjoy every moment of this wonderful life. No, I haven't been drinking but that is about to change in a matter of minutes.

Bonne annee tout le monde and here's to the next 12 months.

xxx

She's leaving home

Actually, she left two months ago. It seems surreal that after all the years of being there whenever I was needed, wiping grazes, helping with homework, organising fairy themed birthday parties and refereeing many sibling spats, suddenly Child Number One is living 1,000 miles away and getting on just fine without us.

Why wouldn't she? She is in London, relishing the ease of jumping on the tube to the West End, going to see a film on a whim or going clubbing when student funds allow but with a safety net of family and friends who look out for her, cook her the occasional Sunday roast and to whom she can turn in a crisis.

That said, letting her go is the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. Dropping her off at the airport with Handyman so that he could settle her into her halls, I somehow managed to stay chirpy and chatty until we said goodbye. Back in the car, I turned on the radio and on came a song she used to play on the piano and sing along to. I cried all the way home.

It brings into sharp focus the wonderful things about parenthood that we are all guilty of taking for granted sometimes.....the piano practises that make you stop whatever you are doing and sometimes bring a tear to your eye, the stupid jokes and banter at the dinner table, even just sitting down together to watch a TV drama or I'm a Celebrity. Working from home and not having the banter of an office, I really miss our after school chats, coffees and lazy weekend breakfasts. Her room is permanently hotel standard tidy, and I hate it.

We have got used to skype calls every few days and Whatsapp for saying good night, good morning, love you and showing each other what we're having for supper. I was expecting an alarming overload of pot noodles and pasta to be honest, but she is whipping up soups, smoothies, curries and shepherds pies like a mini Nigella. My dinner time rants about the evils of junk food, which I was convinced were in vain, have clearly paid off (although she did confess to a Pot Noodle/Gossip Girl marathon with Beaux, her best friend from primary school, recently. And she does have a fridge full of cider and Baileys in her room.)

We went to visit three weeks ago and I filled her fridge with M&S, manna from heaven for an impoverished student. I really think it takes distance, a tight budget and a bit of struggling for kids to realise what they also take for granted when they live at home. I now have a brilliant reason to flit back to London more often for a catch up with the girl who is embracing the next chapter of her life.

Vancouver

It's Saturday, it's raining and there is a low rumbling electric storm which even Talullah and Oscar do not want to go out in so I don't feel remotely guilty about lying in bed reading the papers, supplements and all the news stories I've missed this week until 10.30am. Yes, not a misprint, 10.30am. I have not had a lay in like this since my teens (correction, since the night after amFAR in May, but the less said about that the better.)

On a rainy miserable day, not that we get many, it seems only right to talk about sunnier days. The last few weeks have been a rollercoaster of lovely assignments in Monaco, Saint Tropez and Cannes for OnboardOnline. The competition for top highlight is fierce...breakfast on the Superyacht Ulysses, cocktails at the new Yacht Club in Monaco, champagne at Byblos, riding at James Bond style speeds in a military rib used by the French SAS across the gulf of Saint-Tropez...but the prize event of the last month has to be my trip to Vancouver on a rather lovely TV job.

Arriving at The Loden, a chic, friendly hotel which even had yoga mats in the rooms, and knowing I was heading back home in little over 48 hours time, the best way to fight mid-afternoon jet lag seemed to be to go on a bike ride. The hotel had an assortment of bikes ready and waiting in the lobby and within minutes, I was cycling the couple of blocks to the waterfront. The skyline reminded me of a mini Manhattan but with the welcome addition of cycle lanes threading around the harbour, marina and into Stanley Park.

That night, we ate at Cardero's on Coal Harbour Quay, a buzzing bistro and bar with a suspended terrace over the water offering phenomenal views across the Pacific Ocean. Blankets were provided in case it got chilly but the late summer evening sunshine kept temperatures high enough not to need one. They bill themselves as all about fish and this is no idle boast. The West Coast fish tacos were sublime, only eclipsed by the roasted sablefish, a lot like cod, in a miso-sake marinade. This dish gave the black miso cod at E&O a run for its money, it literally melted in my mouth, no chewing required. I am drooling as I write this. We ordered some wok broccolini (tender stemmed broccoli with a fancy ending) and the way it was served has revolutionised broccoli chez moi. Steamed and then finished lightly in a wok in the holy trinity of red chilli, garlic and ginger along with soy and honey, it was delicious and is now the only way I want to eat it.

Interviews done the following day left us a day to explore so we walked to Gastown, the city's oldest quarter with a quaint Soho/boho feel downtown boasting some rather lovely boutiques including oak + fort, where I chose not to leave empty handed. A walk along the coastline, fringed with pine trees to The Cactus Club Cafe on Beach Avenue brought more culinary joy, although it has to be noted that their fish tacos, while good, were not as good as Cardero's.

I could go on but the storm has stopped, the sun has just shown its face and Talullah is now staring at me with what Issy used to call poppydug eyes so needs must.

Bye bye Eel Pie

After two months travelling around Europe, we are almost at the end of 2014's epic summer road trip. Biarritz was a blast but surfing in July feels like a long time ago now. Next stop was Spain and a journey that took us through Breaking Bad style arid wilderness skirting the Pyrenees and heading through the centre of Spain to the coast near Alicante.

The weather was scorching, the beach beckoned as did the beautiful medieval town of Guadalest, above, and we had some great nights at El Paripe, a cool little tapas bar on a whitewashed rooftop which served amazing calamari and padrons every bit as good as the ones at Bar Jean. Another favourite was La Paletta, a modest little restaurant where the delicious food and friendly service ensured it was packed every night and impossible to get a table without booking. And La Mary in Alicante would give the coolest bistro in Soho a run for its money (and charge you less than half the price.)

Next stop was the UK and a two day drive back up through Spain and France was borne with such patience by Oscar and Tallullah, who were cosily and tightly ensconced amongst cases, toiletries, a new set of kitchen knives, teaspoons, books, wine, sunglasses, you name it. They were amazingly well behaved despite queues caused by the tail end of Hurricane Bertha putting paid to ferry crossings that evening.

We have spent the last three weeks in not so sunny Herts...naturally we missed the UK heatwave by about 24 hours...how typical...but there has been something quite cool about being wrapped up in jeans and boots safe in the knowledge that it won't be for very much longer. Having not lived in the English countryside for several years, the novelty of seeing cows at the end of the garden did not wear off, nor did Fizz Friday at the Five Horseshoes, where they found a friend for life in me given that the Prosecco was half price.

The last couple of days have been spent in one of my favourite places of all time, Eel Pie Island, where we have pottered around on the river, run the dogs and their new pal Stan off their feet and waved to every passing boat from the terrace. Pretty cool to have the Thames at the end of your garden and this view with your morning coffee.

To Gary and Phil, Mel and Bill, Karin and Paul, Jean, Fiona and Steve and Clare, thanks for being such excellent hosts. And to Sarah, whose house we are descending on in East Sussex today for the final few days before la rentree, remember, we don't travel light so it may take a while to unpack!

Cote Ouest

Forgive me blog readers, it's been a month since my last post, where has the time gone? I intended to write an update before we set off on our road trip two weeks ago, but the pressing nature of cleaning the house and making it boutique hotel quality ready for renting out while we travel around Europe took precedence. If cleanliness is next to godliness, I am destined for great things.

First stop is Biarritz on the beautiful Atlantic west coast. There are not enough good things to say about la Cote Ouest. While I love Arcachon and Cap Ferret for their understated beach style, Biarritz seems to slightly tip the balance because it is just so damn cool here. We have rented a stunning apartment in town a few hundred metres from the beach with amazing views of the lighthouse and horizon, as you can see above.

Not only have you got wide open, wild, beautiful beaches everywhere you look, there's not a €25 a day sunbed or glitzy restaurant relieving you of €150 for a fairly average light lunch for two in sight. Instead, it's just miles and miles of sand, which disappears completely at high tide, and a number of perfectly situated beach shacks and fish restaurants serving everything from proper frothy coffee and home made brownies to excellent mojitos, uber fresh catch of the day, little tapas plates of chipirons a la plancha, padrons (little green roasted peppers) and a divine sole cooked Spanish style covered in garlic, olive oil and lemon.

Much as the food is a big draw and Bar Jean, Bar du Marche, Blue Cargo, where you can watch the sunset with a mojito to the sound of Club Tropicana, and La Plancha - still our favourite because Eric, who owns it, and Sylvain the barman recognised us after a year's absence and always find us a table no matter how busy it is - can attest to our loyalty on that front, it's the surf that has made this our (okay, my) must-do destination for the second year running (and I suspect many more to come.)

Something weird comes over me as we edge closer to the West Coast. I'm guessing there are not that many mid 40 (ahem) something women who forsake their early morning fix of Grazia Daily and Vogue.co.uk for Magicseaweed.com to check the swell, what time low tide is and whether there's an on or offshore breeze. Equally, there aren't many places in the world where I feel comfortable leaving the house in a skintight wetsuit which makes me look like a cross between a fetishist and a walrus to drive to Cote des Basques and throw myself into the waves. I even downloaded a few Beach Boys tracks in the car, to the horror of Handyman and Issy, who were forced to listen to Surfing USA and Little Deuce Coupe over and over again for the last 100 km.

Summer surf is unpredictable. Some days, it's virtually flat and you have to chase every wave, other days it's gnarly and the current makes catching anything a huge struggle. Add into the mix the fact that even the best surfers consider a 30 second ride a monumental success and you can see that it wouldn't appeal to everyone, being slapped around the face by huge walls of water and dragged into rips if you venture slightly out of the marked zones. Sometimes you just end up floundering in the mousse.

Today, however, dear reader, was one of those days when it all went right. Handyman rang me while walking the dogs early this morning to tell me that the swell was the biggest he'd seen since we arrived and the 'proper surfers' were all out in force. 'Maybe you shouldn't go today, it looks a bit scary, the waves are as big as me,' he warned as I struggled into my damp wetsuit, checking in with Magicseaweed before racing down to the car.

It was mega. For every wipeout (and there were a few) I must have caught six really decent waves. Inexplicably for mid July there was hardly a soul in the water which meant a 100m beach break unencumbered by small children or complete beginners. After almost two weeks of daily surfing, I have just got over the irritating blisters on my hands, scraped toes and other board-inflicted injuries that are par for the course and just as we are about to leave on the next leg on the trip to Spain, my body feels like it's well up for whatever the Atlantic can throw at it (well as long as it's not over four feet high.) The only thing missing is my surf buddy Sarah, above, who spent two short days here with me screaming with joy as we tried to catch the same belles vagues.

Another friend Sazza messaged me yesterday to tell me that I looked the best I have ever looked. I feel it too and the waves are in no small way responsible for that. At the risk of blowing the secrecy that surrounds one of my favourite places on earth out of the water, if you are feeling like life could be a bit more exciting or fun, grab a board and come on in, the water is just lovely.

A Cautionary Tale

In about five minutes, it's my baby's birthday. Issy is 15 and the fun started a few hours earlier as you can see when I taught her how to play backgammon while we barbecued fish and duck and drank Charles Lafitte in a little family pre-birthday celebration.

It felt good to put a finger up at the lowlifes who ran through our house on Sunday afternoon, stealing whatever they could carry as we sat by the pool in blissful ignorance while Issy enjoyed a siesta in her room.

The dogs, who bark at EVERYTHING, did not make a sound for perhaps the first time in their lives. Oscar is excused as he was with us by the pool and heard nothing while Tallulah (okay, she is getting old and can't see so well) hid in a bush terrified as the scumbags legged it over the gate, snuck down the drive and into the house.

Once I called the gendarmes, naturellement the dogs went ballistic and more than made up for their poor show, barking and running furious circles around them.

More than anything, it's the inconvenience and time it takes to ring or email to cancel everything and reorder, renew and explain what has happened. Now we're all in paranoid stage as doors have to be locked during the day despite the fact that it's 30 degrees outside.

Usually I am a cup half full, if not completely full, but today I have to admit I had a wobble and a cry to my mum in London and felt unusually vulnerable and yes, I hate to admit it, quite down. And then I thought no, this is not going to get me. They are not going to win.

Funnily enough, of all the things that were stolen, what upset me most was the thought that the card I had ordered for Issy from Moonpig, painstakingly designed in photo upload by me (and we all know how technically minded I am) had been stolen. So when I found it on my desk cleverly filed under a sprawling pile of bills this afternoon, I was ecstatic. A small victory. Unfortunately for Handyman, his dog eared photo of the girls on the beach in Devon that has been in his wallet for the past 13 years did not make it. Ditto the beautiful Tiffany pen that they saved their pocket money up to buy for me last birthday to replace the one I had stolen in London as they knew how much it meant to me.

So what do you do in this situation? Luckily no one was hurt although the girls are sleeping in the same room right now and Handyman has a meat cleaver tucked under the bed. We are insured so it's not the end of the world. I'm all for a good cry, moving house and running down the culprits and making sure they never walk again (that might be the Lafitte talking).

Instead, after finishing the boring stuff and making an appointment in Marseille for Emergency Travel Documents in the absence of a passport (I've never been to Marseille so thanks guys), I went for a swim, bought some delicious food and we spent the evening on the terrace eating, drinking and laughing at the fact that our nutcase paranoid dogs, who attack every friend, poste person and UPS delivery driver, were too wussy to make a whimper when it came right down to it.

Laughter is the only way. Meanwhile, as summer arrives, make sure you lock your doors, be vigilant, don't be complacent and make sure you have a blunt heavy object at a handy distance.

Film Festival Fabulousness

It's been a whirlwind few weeks. Superyachts in Antibes and Genoa were swiftly followed by surfing, eating and cycling (eating definitely ruled) in Forte dei Marmi and book signings for Breathing Out in the UK, after which I barely had time to draw breath before it was Cannes Film Festival.

I can't do justice to Genoa and Forte dei Marmi here so I will return to my favourite subject of eating and drinking my way around Italy in a future post as I took it upon myself to seek out some phenomenal restaurants as the scales in my bathroom can now attest.

Signing books in the UK last week, I met an amazing and inspirational bunch of women all with their own stories to tell. Simone, my lovely nutritionist, came along and we met for the first time as thus far, all my consultations with her have been on Skype, 1,000 miles apart. That was emotional but nothing could prepare me for the signing after my talk, when many of the guests came up one at a time to share their experiences with me.

One, a bubbly, vibrant force of nature who is younger than me, told me she is fighting advanced bowel cancer. She is in the middle of chemotherapy but you would never know it to talk to her or look at her. There's not one ounce of negative energy about her.

Another guest revealed that she has lost one sister to breast cancer and her younger sister is currently fighting it too. She faces the prospect of being tested for the BRCA gene. Both said they couldn't wait to read my book and I felt humbled by the fact that they shared so much with me.

Tonight, I received an email from Jane, who told me how much she enjoyed the book. I've never met Jane and to get an email from a stranger saying thank you is a wonderful thing. Enjoyed may be the the wrong word to use, as she has just been diagnosed with breast cancer and is now in that awful limbo of waiting to find out exactly what happens next. I remember it well. She said she is feeling positive for the first time since diagnosis and is taking the book to show her Macmillan nurse.

Their reactions have reinforced my aim to get Breathing Out into every breast care centre in the UK, and then France, if I can get it translated, then goddammit, I'm going to go for world domination.

But before that I need to get through Cannes Film Festival. It kicked off last week with Grace of Monaco, which went down like a lead balloon with the critics for its mawkishly sentimental retelling of the marriage of Prince Rainier and Grace Kelly. In fact, you can read all about it in my report in this week's edition of Hello magazine. The parties are in full swing with amfAR the hot ticket on Thursday (ahem yes, I will be going, somebody has to and it might as well be me.)

My big dilemma is what to wear alongside the A listers who have every major league designer and jeweller at their disposal. I feel Sarah Millican's pain as my wardrobe is more Havaianas and halter neck sundresses than LBDs and Louboutins. I have hit on a plan however and asked to borrow the dress I bought Liv for her birthday which she wore to the brilliant Belvedere Rita Ora gig last Friday. I figure she owes me BIGTIME for that invitation and a borrowed Tara Jarmon number will do nicely.

So far the award for most random question at a press conference goes to a German TV journalist who asked Tim Roth (Prince Rainier in Grace of Monaco): 'Was there a moment when you felt like hitting Nicole Kidman?' And most overblown ego award (lots of competition for this one) has to go to the unknown male guest at the Calvin Klein Collection/Independent Filmmaker Project party who told his date:‘That’s Julianne Moore. She’s lovely. I KNOW HER.’

Part two next week....