A Day of Roman Luxury

It's our final full day in the Bay of Naples. The last day for me to glean any last minute goodies for Roman Mystery number 11, Sirens of Surrentum.

I want to explore Baia more, and the amphitheatre at Pozzuoli, but am not sure I can face taking bus, train, metro and pullman to get there. That's Plan A. But it's going to be hot today. So we opt for Plan B, the 9.30 hydrojet from Sorrento to Ischia and from there a ferry to Pozzuoli. If it's impossible to get the ferry to Pozzuoli, we will explore Ischia and I might go to one of the thermal baths there (Plan C). The guide book mentions a neoclassical spa built on the ruins of a Roman bath.

Ischia is a volcanic island, bubbling with hot springs and hot mud. Some of the town names even have the word terme in them from the Latin word thermae meaning 'warm baths'. The baths at Baiae were so opulent that when travellers found their remains they thought they were temples to the gods. They were actually Temples to Pleasure.

Our hydrojet is fast but even so we don't arrive at Ischia Porto – the port town of this little island – until 10.45. I take one look at the rusty ferry to Pozzuoli and decide to go with Plan C, ie. stay on Ischia and try out one of the spas. I know from my guide book that the baths I want are in the next town and that they close at midday, so when a dark Italian with oily, slicked-back hair says 'Taxi? You want taxi?' I negotiate a fee to the Termi Belliazzi at Casamicciola Terme.

On the way, between my broken Italian and his broken English, Pepe the taxi-driver tells me the baths I have chosen aren't very elegant. 'You should try Negumbo or Poseidon's Garden,' he says. But I let him know I'm interested in all things Roman and so he shrugs and settles back to drive. Actually he hunches forward to drive; all the taxis on Ischia are micro-taxies and Pepe is a big man.

We arrive at the Terme Belliazzi about ten minutes later and once I have established that I can have a look at the Roman baths underneath before a massage, Richard goes to a sunny square to do a watercolour.

This spa is like something out of a Fellini movie. I am taken past cublicles and through the half-closed curtain I can glimpse old men wrapped in sheets and moaning softly. On the black and white marble floor are buckets of mud and plastic sheets smeared with mud.

A man called Antonio takes me down to the Roman baths. It is very hot and steamy down here. He shows me where the hot water bubbles up out of the ground and the hoses that now transfer it up to the baths above us. I notice the same vaulted roof as the modern building above.

Antonio also shows me the modern sauna and jacuzzi, both of which are carved from stone and look very Roman. Then I am taken back to the vaulted room with cubicles. I have gathered that I can have a massage with either Antonio or a woman called Rosa. As I have to get totally naked the choice is not difficult.

Rosa is a tanned, cheerful brunette who keeps taking my arm with a firm grip and guiding me here and there. I sense it's going-home time and she wants to go home, but there is no way a man is giving me a massage! As I am undressing she asks if I want 'fango'. I have been hearing this word all morning and now she shows me a contraption above the massage-couch. She pulls a lever and out comes a giant worm of grey mud! This is fango.

'Si,' I reply bravely. 'I'll have the fango.'

Once I am naked I have to climb up onto the pile of mud on the plastic sheet. I do so. Wow! The mud is warm and very slippery. I help Rosa smear it all over and then she wraps me up in the plastic sheet with a cloth sheet around it and I lie there for ten minutes, enveloped in slippery, squelchy, warm grey mud. It is very sensuous!

Every so often Rosa comes in to mop my face, which is sweating. Then, after ten minutes she negotiates me off the couch and hoses me down with mineral water. (Boy am I glad Antonio is not doing this; talk about a 'squirmy'). In the cubicle is also a bathtub full of mineral water and once I am sluiced off I get into that for another ten minutes.

I can tell by the silence outside my curtained cubicle that most people have left this spa. I reckon it's almost twelve. Rosa comes in and asks me once again if I want Antonio to give me my massage. 'No, you please, Rosa,' I say in Italian, and add by way of explanation: 'I'm from England.' (She probably wants to get home to her kids; Italian schools broke up last week...)

Rosa nods cheerfully, takes me to a clean cublicle next door and proceeds to give me a vigorous full-body massage with lemon-scented cream. In Roman times it would have been scented olive-oil of course, but I imagine the luxurious establishments in Baiae would have specialised in hot mud treatments, after all, Baiae is situated on top of sulphurous fumaroles, too.

I give Rosa a nice tip and my last copy of one of my books in Italian, dedicated to her three children. I leave the baths feeling very smooth and relaxed. No wonder rich Romans spent so much time there.

Richard is in a café finishing a nice watercolour of the little park opposite. The owner of the cafe wants him to do a portrait of his son. As payment in advance he gives Richard a bottle of cheap Spanish red wine. Hmmmn.

We get another micro-taxi to take us to various places. Philippe – our new taxi-driver – shows us Negumbo, the spa with turquoise pools of hot water (you go from pool to pool, getting hotter and hotter) and also the Villa di William Walton, where musical recitals are held. After a decent pizza lunch in Casamicciola, we catch a bus back to Ischia Porto.

I want to see the house where The Talented Mr Ripley was filmed and hey! there's Pepe! He knows where the Mr Ripley house is but first he shows us the Roman acqueduct. Yup. It's a Roman acqueduct. Then on to the Palazzo Malcoviti, where Dicky Greenleaf and Marge 'lived'. It's a different colour now but I recognize it. Pepe was actually one of the drivers for the film crew and tells us that 'Anthony Minghella is a very nice man.' I tell him that Minghella's family sells ice cream on the Isle of Wight. Pepe did not know that! Finally Pepe takes us to the foot of the Castello Aragonese. We find a cool shady place to sit, with a view of the castle, and while Richard does another watercolour, I shmooze a local bookshop and have a pistachio ice cream.

We catch the 5.20 hydrojet back to Sorrento and I make my last research stop: the Hotel Bellevue Syrene. This four-star hotel perched on Sorrento's cliff has Roman reproduction rooms and is built on the foundations of a Roman villa, like that of Pollius Felix. I can't see the foundations, of course, but a handsome receptionist called Mehdi kindly agrees to take us down to show us the Roman rooms. These are reserved for wedding parties and there is one about to arrive any minute.

The Roman rooms of the Bellevue Syrene are superb. Replica frescoes and mosaics were done at the beginning of the 20th century. The setting and landscaping is magnificent, too. If they ever make a Hollywood blockbuster of one of the Roman Mysteries and have a wrap-party (or whatever they call it) afterwards, then this is the place to come!

Richard and I have drinks on the terrace with its Roman-like columns and arbour, gazing out over the blue Gulf of Sorrento in the cool of the evening. Our cocktails cost as a much as dinner but it's worth it for this moment of sybaritic luxury. After all, tomorrow it's back to London!

P.S. The Sirens of Surrentum ended up being my fave book of the series, along with The Pirates of Pompeii and The Man from Pomegranate Street. All three are very romantic, but The Sirens of Surrentum is the most 'grown-up'!

Amalfi Paradise

Note to self: never attend any event with the word 'folkloric' in it. What was I thinking? The Naples song and dance evening, held in the attractive basement of a Sorrento nightclub, was pretty dire. Granted the singers and dancers were mostly young and enthusiastic, but it didn't clang my gong, as Jonathan says at the beginning of The Sirens of Surrentum.

So I was dubious about whether to sign up for the 'Amalfi Coast' tour. I figured we could get the little SITA buses and just hop off and on. However, after our struggles and disappointments with these buses, I was beginning to wonder if a guided tour mightn't be better after all. Then, coming into the station one hot morning after a recce to an archaeological museum, I see the queues of people for the Amalfi buses and immediately phone Julia, our rep, to book the last two places on the tour.

And I'm glad I did. The little bus comes at 7.45 on the dot. It is sparkling clean and our tour guide for the day is lively and sparkly, too. Her name is Luciana and although she has by her own admission been giving this tour daily each summer for eight years (!) she still manages to be enthusiastic and charming. Better yet, our driver Giovanni drives very slowly and carefully. This is the same coastline that had John Steinbeck clutching his wife in the back of an Italian taxi and weeping with terror. And though one of my recurring nightmares is plunging off a road just like this, I am never once afraid.

Of all the days we have been here, today has the most perfect weather. It is clear and calm and we have the road to ourselves. One good thing about being up in Sant'Agata: we get a head start on all the other day-trippers. Being a movie buff, I am looking for locations from The Talented Mr Ripley and A Good Woman , both fairly recent movies that were filmed on location. I am not disappointed. The setting is really breathtaking and I recognize several places from the films, especially A Good Woman.

We cruise through Positano and Praiano, with the Siren islands always on our right, and reach Amalfi by about 10.00. We are given the option of an hour's boat cruise for an extra 10 euros and we all reckon it will be worth it. It is. Julia meets us with her coachload and as we sail up and down the coast, she and Luciana take it in turns to point out the homes of celebrities like Sean Connery, Sophia Loren, Gore Vidal (well, he just sold his) and Richard Branson's Palazzo Sasso, a villa in the hills of Ravello. That's just the kind of thing I want to know: who lives where!

The Romans didn't get here until the 4th century AD, so I can relax a bit.

After our boat trip we are given a free hour in Amalfi. Richard and I opt to sit in a cafe and watch the tourists go by as we sip an espresso (him) and a premuta di limone (me). That's the Italian version of a citron presse: pure lemon juice in a tall glass with ice. You add your own water and sugar.

After our break we take a winding road up to Ravello and stop at a restaurant in Scala for lunch. Although it's a touristy package lunch it is absolute bliss. Our busload gets the best tables, in the shade with a panorama and a half, because we are first. Yay, Giovanni!

We have salad and a choice of grilled swordfish or aubergine pasta with lemon cake for dessert. It's a magical hour overlooking the majestic mountains to the northeast and the fertile gorge below us. Richard and I are sitting with Peter and Rosemary, whom we have got to know a little already.

Then on to Ravello. It's up in the mountains with no access to the sea, but with heart-stopping views over the Gulf of Salerno. We visit the Villa Rufolo with its lovely gardens. There are concerts here almost every evening in summer and in one cloister we stop to hear the haunting sound of a pianist practising his Schubert. Suddenly he breaks off to play something jazzy – more Benoit than Bach – so we sit in a cool spot surrounded by lavender and geraniums, and let him serenade us for five minutes.

Then under a shady parasol in the sunny square for iced coffee. This really is iced coffee! It's sweet espresso frozen and churned into a kind of sorbet. Delicious and reviving and refreshing. I now know why Richard Branson and Gore Vidal have chosen to invest here. I too have fallen in love with Ravello.

Afterwards everyone on the tour says this was their favourite part of the week. For us it was certainly the most relaxing. We are back at the hotel by 4.00, in time for a cooling dip in the pool and a chance to snooze or read a book.
We try to catch a SITA bus at 7.45 down to Capo di Sorrento for my interview, but the bus never comes so we splash out twenty euros for a taxi.

The reporter had better be there!

He is. And he asks all the right questions. Vincenzo interviews me for about an hour, takes a photo of me and Richard with a friend's mobile phone and promises to send a clipping of the article to my Italian publisher. I'm not even sure which paper it will be in but hey! any publicity is good!

Villa di Pollio Felice

ruins of the villa of Pollius Felix in Sorrento

Today is midsummer and I plan to devote the whole day to visiting the Villa of Pollius Felix on the Capo di Sorrento. Also known as the Villa di Pollio Felice and sometimes the Bagni della Regina Giovanna (in Italian). I dubbed it the Villa Limona when I put it in my history-mystery books for kids, The Roman Mysteries. Many experts think it was the villa of a rich Epicurean named Pollius Felix, mentioned by Statius in several of his poems (e.g. Silvae 2.2) In another blog post I tell how I first discovered this magical place. 

model of the 'Villa Limona' at the George Vallet Museum

In the morning Richard and I catch the 7.20 SITA bus to Piano di Sorrento and find the Georges Vallet Museum with its superb model of the villa. We take tons of photos and sketches and translate the Italian commentary. I will use my photos of this model as a basis for a detailed plan and sketch in book 11, The Sirens of Surrentum. Richard, as usual, will work his artistic magic with my sketches and notes.

We board another SITA bus to Sorrento's Marina Piccola and are just in time to catch an 11.00 am hydrofoil to Capri. It passes right by the Villa of Pollius Felix, so more photos are snapped.

Capri is stuffed to the gills with tourists, so we have a quick (but delicious) salad in the Grand Marina and catch the 12.00 boat to the Blue Grotto. What they don't tell you is that once at the Blue Grotto it costs another eight and a half euros to get a little rowing boat to take you in. It is a great - if quick - visit, because of the queue of boats packed with people waiting their turn. The entrance to the grotto is tiny, (hence the rowing boat) and once inside the blue is luminous. Rather like the blue of an LA swimming pool lit up at night.

We are the last people aboard the 14.00pm hydrofoil back to Sorrento. I snap more photos of the ruins of Felix's villa and we're back in Sant'Agata by 16.30 for a quick dip in the lovely pool of the Hotel Delle Palme.

Richard is exhausted, but I am determined to do a kind of pilgrimage to the Villa Limona. The climax of Sirens takes place on midsummer's evening of AD 80, so what better day to make my pilgrimage than midsummer's eve 2005?

I catch the 17.55 SITA bus from Sant'Agata, disembark at Capo, and am down at the Villa of Pollius Felix by 18.30. It is great to see the ruins with the model fresh in my mind and I immediately see what I should add or change. After a good hour's wander, I sit happily on the north east corner of the foundations and read some of Pirates while eating a picnic dinner of olives, marinated white beans (a local specialty) and water. For dessert I have a juicy orange. Yum.

There are only a few other people around the villa ruins: a man down on the lower rocks, two scuba-divers in the secret cove (!) and some English women wandering through, so I feel the villa was properly mine.

Here's a spooky fact: in AD 80 there was a full moon on 21 June, midsummer's eve. Guess what? Today there is a full moon on 21 June! What are the odds?

I watch the sun set, as yellow and juicy as a lemon, and bid my beloved villa goodbye. Oh, how I would love a time machine to travel back to AD 80 and see what this villa and its owners really looked like!

Back up at the Bar del Capo I have a few minutes to spare before the last SITA bus back so I find the 'boss'. His name is Antonino. I give him a copy of Pirates in English and also one in Italian, dedicated to his three daughters. He is delighted and takes me onto the terrace to introduce me to Vincezo, a reporter for the local paper. I have to get my bus but promise to come back tomorrow for dinner at 20.00, when Vincenzo will interview me.

Pollius Felix gives a banquet at his Surrentum villa

On the bus back a huge full moon, orange as an apricot, rises over the mountains. A wonderful end to a productive day.

[The 17 books in The Roman Mysteries are perfect for children aged 9+, especially those studying Romans as a topic in Key Stage 2. Carrying on from the Roman Mysteries, the Roman Quests is a four-book series set in Roman Britain. You can watch The Roman Mysteries on Amazon Prime.]

The Trick to Pompeii

The trick to Pompeii is not to get there early, but to get there late.

Aim to arrive around 5.00 pm as the hoards are leaving. Get an audio guide and you will have two and a half hours to wander undisturbed in the cool of the evening.

There are also moonlight tours of Pompeii now, though these are difficult because the guided ones don't end until 11.30 by which time it's probably too late to get back to Sorrento.

On Monday we arrive at the site around 5.30. I have two objectives:
1. See the exhibition about ancient food, De Gustibus
2. To make a pilgrimage to the House of Lucius Caecilius Iucundus, famous to all those who have ever studied (or taught) Latin using the Cambridge Latin Course.

The exhibition is disappointing, just a few display cards about Roman food in Italian and badly translated English, and a little bed of herbs that were known in Pompeian times. None of these are new to me except ‘sparrow-grass’: asparagus! But there’s a nice fresco of a cockerel on one of the boards and that's one of the things I’m collecting for this book. Does he have blue feathers?

We also see a lovely pomegranate bush in bloom. There was one at Baiae, too. They have orange-red trumpet-shaped blossoms this time of year. Must work that in.

Richard is fading fast so I leave him by an ancient fountain and turn off the Decumanus Maxiums to run five blocks north up the street which leads from the Stabian Gate. There I find the villa of Lucius Caecilius Iucundus, the banker. It is gated off but the marble lararium is close enough for me to be able to reach through the iron bars and brush its smooth marble surface with my fingertips. I can see the atrium and the impluvium, planted round with pink and white oleanders in bloom. I can’t see the dog mosaic but perhaps it is in Naples now.

On the way back we see another delightful dog mosaic (above). It is very dusty so we pour the last of our bottled water onto it to bring up the colour.

Earlier in the afternoon we visited the Villa of Poppaea at Oplontis. This magnificent villa, belonging to the Emperor Nero's floozy and wife, was only unearthed in 1974. It is pretty much completely standing. We were the only people there except for the usual clutch of fonctionari relaxing in the shade of a tree. There are columns, frescoes, a wonderful mosaic that looks as if it comes from the 1960's and a huge swimming pool which botanical archaeologists can tell was planted round with oleander and lemon trees.

We find the private baths of the house and an amazing column painted with a fish-scale design I have never seen before. This reminds me of Aubrey Beardsley’s Art Deco designs. What an amazing place!

Caroline Lawrence at the Villa Poppaea at Oplontis in 2005

Epicureans vs Stoics in Naples

The Sirens of Surrentum

It's our second day in Italy. On our last trip we missed the National Archaeological Museum of Naples so this time I'm determined to make it. After all, it has some of the best artefacts from Pompeii, Herculaneum, Stabia and Oplontis.

We get a SITA bus, then the Circumvesuviana, then the metro to Cavour. We have got the artecard which allows us free travel and free entry to a few museums and sites, plus discounts. We use it to gain entry and for a discount on the audio guide.

One of the things I want to see are mosaics and/or frescoes of cockfights, which symbolise violence and decadence. The first room we enter, on a kind of mezzanine half way up the sweeping marble stairs, has two superb mosaics of cockfights from the House of the Painted Columns in Pompeii. One (below right) shows two cocks facing off with a table behind them. On the table is a pouch of money for the winner, the palm branch of victory and a caduceus, the symbol of Mercury, god of commerce, thieves and gambling. On the other mosaic (below left) a dwarf hands the palm of victory to the victorious cock. The loser lies dead, beak impaled in the sand!

Two mosaics from the Museum in Naples

In the same room was one of several delightful 'cave canem' mosaics I know about. It was great to meet this delightful dog in person.

The famous Alexander mosaic was there, too, taking up one entire wall, and some wonderful frescoes of ducks and hippos. The famous secret cabinet was open, too, so I saw lots more cocks! Apotropaic of course.

so-called Seneca

There were some magnificent bronzes from the House of the Papyrii, including a bust of a philosopher who might be Seneca (right). One of the themes of book 11, The Sirens of Surrentum, is Epicurean philosophy vs the Stoic philosophy. After the loss of his faith in book 8, The Gladiators from Capua, Jonathan is considering which to follow. It is handy that Pollius Felix was a known Epicurean. I also saw my old friend Vespasian. Two of them in fact. You can recognize his stubborn, bull-necked face anywhere. Titus's head is usually rounder, less cube-like.

There is also a fascinating exhibition on Roman food, though I didn't really learn anything I didn't already know. We run into some Welsh tourists who got a tour from Sorrento which took them to Solfatura, the bubbling volcanic mud, and then onto the Naples museum. If I had it to do over, I would definitely book that tour. The coach is as quick, if not quicker than metro, train and SITA, and a whole lot easier, I imagine.

But the National Archaeology Museum of Naples is superb... so get there any way you can! 

Baths of Baia

The Sirens of Surrentum

It is mid-summer of 2005. I am on the Bay of Naples to research my most romantic Roman Mystery, The Sirens of Surrentum. It has taken me three days to find an internet cafe here in Campania and it's not even an internet cafe, just a video/DVD shop with a computer by one wall. Plus it's down in Sorrento, not in the hill village where we're staying. Our package tour has put us in a little village 'only seven kilometres' from Sorrento. Problem is it takes ages to get the bus down to Sorrento. That's what happens when you book cheap last minute holidays sight unseen. Anyway, the Hotel Delle Palma in Sant'Agata is a very charming three star hotel with pines, palms, magnolia and plane trees. Our room has a balcony overlooking the pool and a bit of the gulf and Capri. (Later on I discover there IS an internet café, only a hundred metres from the hotel!)

Saturday is our day to explore Baia. It is quite a journey. We catch the little SITA bus from Sant'Agata at 7.10, the circumvesuviana train at 7.40, the metro from Naples-Garibaldi at 9.00, chang trains at Napoli Campi Flegrei to catch the train to Pozzuoli at 9.30 and finally arrive at the Archeobus stop at 10.00am.

pool at the Hotel Della Palma in Sant'Agata near Sorrento

There is so much I want to see here: the site of ancient Baiae (modern Baia), ancient Cumae, where the Sybil lived; Misenum, from where Pliny first saw the volcano erupting; Pozzuoli, with its Flavian amphitheatre and underground Roman city... But my next book is mainly set in Baia so we go there first. The Archeobus is a little bus that makes a circuit of all the major sites to the west of Naples, those around the Campi Flegrei (burning fields), so called because of all the volcanic activity.

We have been standing at the busstop about 10 minutes a gentleman with a cane politely informs us that "the archeobus is finished". Apparently they have stopped running it.

The man tells us to get a little bus which they call pullman. He will show us. Presently the little SEPSA bus comes and we go with the gentleman as far as Lago Lucrino. The Lucrine Lake was the site of Agrippina's house. Agrippina was the mother of Nero and one spring evening in AD 65 he decided to have her murdered. After his botched plan to drown her in a collapsing boat (she swam to shore), some fishermen picked her up and brought her here, where Nero's hitmen finished the job with their swords. The Lake – which was once famous through the Empire for its oysters – is now little more than a stagnant pool, but there is a restaurant on the shore called La Nimphea which overlooks the lake and puts me in mind of Agrippina's Villa.

It is after 11.00am and boiling hot. We haven't had anything to eat, so we dive into a shady cafe for peanuts, espresso and water. Suitably refreshed, we ask the waiter when the trains to Baia run. "Every ten minutes" he assures us in Italian. We go to the little station across the road but when we ask about il prossimo treno per Baia the handful of travellers just shrug.

so-called Temple of Diana at Baia

So we stand in the beating sun to catch another pullman. Mercifully it comes after five or ten minutes and we pile on.

It is only luck that we get out at the right place; the busdriver has no clue where the ancient baths are. But we spot the brown sign with its white letters. A short but exhausting climb up the hill brings us to the site entrance.

These ruins on the hill overlooking the pretty blue bay are of opulent baths. There were many baths complexes here in Baia. The so-called Temple of Diana, a dramatic half dome, that we passed on the way up are baths. So is the Temple of Venus.

From up here we can clearly see the train station of Baia. Its tracks are rusted and wildflowers grow profusely around it. 'Every ten minutes', indeed! This station hasn't been used in at least five years...

The site is hot and deserted. We explore the terrace of an opulent villa and the baths surrounding it. We see the odd black and white mosaic, a headless marble statue in a niche, a patch of frescoed wall with Pompeian red and the even more expensive Egyptian blue. Much of the site is roped off and it is obviously well-off the beaten track. I am hoping we will be able to see the so-called (again) Temple of Mercury.

The Temple of Mercury was a huge dome, as big as the Pantheon and pre-dating it, built in the time of Augustus. It was either the apodyterium or frigidarium of this bath complex. I tend to think the latter as it is the outstanding feature of the baths and this is where people would mainly congregate. I have seen pictures and know it will be amazing. But will we have access? Poor Richard is pouring with sweat, even though he's wearing his straw hat, and he follow me without complaint, occasionally stopping to mop his brow with a handtowel borrowed from the hotel.

I lead him past ruined porticoes and down scrubby paths fringed with fennel, quince, chamomile, dill, sage and other herbs. At last we arrive and it seems to be open! Next to the rectangular entrance is a vault which was once one of the rooms of the baths. And here is something I have never seen in my life; a fig tree growing UPSIDE DOWN from the roof of the vault. It is green and healthy and bearing a good crop of figs. What a marvel!

Then we enter the rectangular room and go through a narrow passage and emerge into another world.

Caroline in the so-called Temple of Mercury

Here is a great dome with a circular open skylight at the top and four rectangular openings on its sides. From somewhere a breeze is funneled through the openings and carresses us with delicious coolness. The high dome amplifies our whispered exclamations and makes them echo. But the most amazing thing is the sunlight which pours almost straight down through the skylight onto four feet of green water, caused by bradyseism or flooding. The surface of the water, barely rippled by the breeze, throws a huge trembling golden disc back up onto the inner surface of the dome.

Then we see the fish swimming in the murky water: huge gold and white carp, languidly drifting through the dark water and avoiding the sunlit patches. A flutter of wings makes us look up to see a dove fluttering through one of the openings. The breeze blows, the water plops, I want to stay in this magical place forever.

[The 17 books in the Roman Mysteries series are perfect for children aged 9+, especially those studying Romans, Greeks or Egyptians as a topic in Key Stage 2. Season One of the TV series is available in Europe and the UK on iTunes.]

I love SQUIRMIES!

I never go to proper writers' workshops these days. Instead I go to screenwriting weekends put on by the great London organization called RAINDANCE.

They have brought over some great Hollywood screenwriters in the past couple of years, including my idol John Truby as well as Mark Travis and Chris 'Hero's Journey' Vogler. One of the best weekends was given by David Freeman. If Truby provides the recipe for a good story, then Freeman provides the garnishing and condiments.

Here are some of his techniques for what he calls 'Scene Deepening':

1. Emotional pathway (character)
One character runs a gamut of emotions quickly in one scene.

2. Emotional pathway (scene)
The tone of a scene changes as we watch it.

3. 1 Statement, 2 Reactions
A character says something that gets two (or more) different reactions from the people with him.

4. Character A doesn't realize she's causing character B pain.
But we the audience see it clearly...

5. Crossing the 'dramedy' line. (a good thing)
In a dramatic scene throw in some comic relief or laughter, in a funny scene slip in some drama

6. 1 Scene, 2 Universes
Two characters are in such different emotional/mental places that it causes tension

7. Scenes with painful moments
Or as James Marsters says about the creator of Buffy: 'Joss makes his living denying people what they want'.

8. Scenes with words that are emotionally difficult to say.
eg. 'I love you', 'I'm leaving you', 'He's dead!'

9. Z expresses A's state-of-mind
A minor character knowingly or unknowingly expresses what major character is thinking/feeling.

10. SQUIRMIES. Uncomfortable moments that make you squirm.
Ask yourself: what would really make people squirm in my story?

Freeman has lots more but that's just a taster.

Why am I telling you all this?

Flavia in Sorrento

Well, because in the book I'm working on now, The Sirens of Surrentum, there are going to be lots of delicious SQUIRMIES! Even the first line is a squirmy, especially for 9-year-old fan Nick.

Flavia Gemina and Jonathan ben Mordecai were kissing. They had been kissing for some time.

Nick would like to direct his own version of the Roman Mysteries but emailed me to say this:

You know the 11th book, Flavia and Jonathan kiss? Is it possible cut it out? It's just my friends Harry and Sophie will be playing those two and they will not want to kiss!

Sorry, Nick, but that is only one of many SQUIRMIES you and your actors will have to get used to!

Finally, I'll leave the last word to David Freeman: THROW UNEXPECTED THINGS AT PEOPLE ALL THE TIME.

OK, Dave. If you insist...

Les Quinze Nits

This page from my blog got lost in cyberspace so I am reposting it

Nice dinner last night in my fave Barcelona Square, the Placa Reial. I like it cuz it has palm trees and bats. Jessica and her family took me to a restaurant called Les Quinze Nits (The Fifteen Nights). It was great, even though we had to stand in line and it started spitting with rain. That didn´t bother us (or the bats). We were given a choice of sitting inside but waiting an hour or sitting outside, under the portico and eating straightaway. We chose portico straightaway and it with one of those outdoor heaters it wasn´t too bad. The food was great. Italian style and I had my first chicken in about ten days. An Italian friend of Jessica´s family joined us. Luca is a big film buff so we had fun discussing fave films.

Now I´m having a lunch break at St Pauls School, Barcelona. A lot harder than ASB yesterday because none of the kids here have English as their first language and also because they are Spanish. The Spanish do not sit still like well-behaved English kids: they fidget, whisper, slouch in their seats. But I´ve been told they´ve enjoyed my presentations so far.

Great lunch, though I didn´t partake of the big jug of red wine punch available for teachers and staff! Tonight I must see some Gaudi. Still have not seen much...

LATER...

Today was exhausting but I guess it went well. The teacher who arranged my visit was thrilled and I´ve already had some emails from the kids. The Spanish students are so warm. They crowded round me and followed me like a little flock of sheep.

I fell asleep in the taxi back to the apartment and woke up in time to tell the driver to stop. Lugged all my stuff up the three flights of narrow stairs, lay on the bed but couldn´t sleep: Barcelona was out there waiting for me to explore it! So I went walking and got a tasty felafel. Too tired to see Gaudi and I want to go when the sun is out. So I went to the IMAX (my first experience of this) and saw a film about some people going down the Blue Nile, (for Nubia research purposes). It left me a bit queasy. The weather was overcast when I went in at 6.00 but the clouds were breaking up when I came out at 7.30. I arrived back at La Boqueria, the famous fruit and vegetable market, just in time to get some fresh watermelon, pineapple and mandarins for breakfast tomorrow. Very expensive: over 10 euros! But it the fruit is so fresh and tasty here...

Then I tried to buy socks because the ones I washed by hand in the sink are still damp. But can you find a sock anywhere in Barcelona? Only tiny little candy-striped socks or ones that say I *heart* PORN. So I guess I have to wear damp socks. Is this blog getting boring? I think so. Better sign off!

Last month in Empurias

This page of last month's blog was lost in cyberspace, so I'm posting it again...

8 May 2005
The weather is beautiful here in Barcelona: warm days with blue skies and a cool breeze. Its a gem of a city with hidden courtyards, palm trees and the most beautiful architecture I have seen in a long time.

Yesterday Helen, (one of three librarians from the American School of Barcelona), took me to the ruins of a Greco-Roman port about two hours north of here. Emporias was first founded by the Greeks of Asia Minor in around 600 BC so its the first classical site in Spain. Later, in the mid 5th century BC the Greeks founded a second port on the land and called it Neapolis (which means New City). Then, in the 3rd century BC the Romans took over after their victory over Hannibal.

The site is stunning. Situated on the coast by the deep blue Med and fringed by umbrella pines, it reminds me of Ostia. Not as nice and not as big, but still impressive. You can see mosaics, statues, even the channel for the latrines. We wandered around for a couple of hours and sat through a fun audio visual show about the founding and development of the site. 

The museum was good but the gift shop was better. I got a replica Alexandrian perfume vase, a tiny clay oil lamp, and a bronze pendent like the one Lupus gets at the beginning of Colossus!

That evening, back in Barcelona, all three librarians took me out to dinner at a Catalan specialty restaurant. I had grilled artichoke and aubergine with goats' cheese on top. There are three librarians because two are part-time and one is on maternity leave. Lorena, the one on maternity leave, is letting me use her little apartment in the old area of Barcelona, just a stones throw from Las Ramblas, the famous street with flower and bird markets and near the Miro mosaic.

Today one of the librarians took me on a tour bus around Barcelona and up to the Archaeological Museum to see the bits of Empurias that were brought here.


I have discovered that ostia is a very rude word in Spanish. I guess I'll have to tone it down by just saying Ostia Antica all the time.

On my first night here, Lorena showed me a tiny vegetarian restaurant near the apartment. Its called Juicy Jones and is a sort of cave with psychedelic walls and delicious food. Also when you go to eat dinner at the horribly unsocial hour of 7.00pm (most Spaniards would not dream of sitting down to dinner before 9.30) nobody can see you!

Last month in Bilbao

This page got lost in cyberspace so here it is again...

6 May 2005
Its a beautiful spring day in Bilbao and I've just spent all morning at the Guggenheim. It is marvellous. All curvy titanium, glass and polished limestone. Like the Getty Museum in LA, its beauty overwhelms the works of art inside. The museum is the work of art. It feels great inside and outside and looks good from every viewpoint.

The giant spider called 'Maman' (mother) is perfect, crouched by the curvy titanium structure. My only disappointment is that one of the long galleries is closed off in preparation for a new exhibition opening next month and I didnt get to see Serras snake.

Elvira (the bouncy Brooklyn-born librarian from the American School of Bilbao) is about to take me to lunch at the posh restaurant in the Guggenheim. I am going to meet her in front of Puppy. What is Puppy? Puppy is a wonderful huge sculpture of a puppy made out of blooming flowers. Its by American pop artist Jeff Koons. What fun!

Tonight I fly to Barcelona where I will spend the whole week in a little apartment in the old town near the famous Las Ramblas. I have the weekend free and then school events on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Friday the 13th will be lucky for me cuz Ill be FREE that day. Yay!

Adios, amigos!

Last month in Madrid

Another page of my May blog, retrieved from cyberspace...

3 May 2006, Madrid

Sally N., mother of three and expat from Pittsburg, picked me up in a taxi outside the Crowne Plaza Hotel. She lives in Madrid but says taking taxis is cheaper than parking. She had her eldest kids with her. Her ten-year-old son Ricky has read one of my books. His little sister Sophia has not. So Ricky was quite interested when we went round the Roman rooms of the Archaeological Museum but Sophia was not. So she sensibly started hopping over the cord roping off the mosaics. Luckily a good friend of Sally's, Monica from Scotland, turned up just then by pre-arrangement to take Sophia. Meanwhile, Sally's husband was at home watching the toddler. What an operation! Visiting authors can be such a pain!

Anyway, the Archaeological Museum had some good stuff, including about half a dozen pendents like the one Lupus gets at the beginning of Colossus. But nobody ever notices these things. There were some nice mosaics, including all twelve tasks of Hercules.

Later we caught up with Monica who had taken Sophia to a chic Madrid eatery where you can get any kind of specialty of Madrid. These specialties consist mainly of various bits of pig, or of sweet pastries. I settled for a kind of cold pizza/quiche with asparagus and courgettes on top. Hmmmn... Only been in Spain two days and already I'm bored with the food. I had jamon serrano for breakfast and jamon serrano for lunch. Dinner will be peanuts and an orange. I honestly dont see anything I want to eat. Salads? They are almost non-existent. Or full of strange ingredients. I pointed out one salad to my guides and asked what the white meat was. Monica said a kind of fish, Ricky said chicken, Sally said it was a kind of partridge. Even they don't know! When I asked Ricky what he liked to eat he replied with real enthusiasm: 'Squid sandwiches!' QED.

After the specialty snack we walked along leafy boulevards towards the Prado Museum and the Van Thyssen Museum which everybody says I must see. It has a small but eclectic collection. On the way we had popsicles. I had one called horchata which is the flavour of some kind of root that tastes a bit like almond. Actually I've probably misunderstood and its actually some part of a pig, but nobody's had the heart to tell me. Anyway, it was nice.

The Van Thyssen looks good from the outside but I decided not to go after all. Instead I went to the Prado, which is having an exhibition of Durer. When I used to teach art at a small independent primary school in London, they let me write my own curriculum. So we spent a different term studying and copying the work of one artist. One term we did Cezanne, another we did El Greco. We also did Greek Art, Disney, Matisse and Albrecht Durer. So I had to go.

There was a long queue but it was a beautiful afternoon, in a beautiful setting and a man was playing Spanish acoustic guitar as the line of mellow Madrillenos filed by. When we got to the entrance I discovered why the queue was long: entry was free. Gratis. Nada.

I scurried past the masterpieces, slowing down in front of Velazquez, Goya, Caravaggio and my fave Zurbaran, then went round the Durer with an excellent audio guide.

By 2.30 I was ravenous so went to the cafeteria in the Prado. It is downstairs and at the far end. Pretty grim. The Van Thyssen cafe looked much nicer. The only thing that looked edible at the Prado Cafe was the jamon serrano, thin slices of bright-red air-dried country ham, not unlike jerky. (I would love to read A.A. Gill's review of Spanish food). I also bought two oranges. One was my dessert and the other will be my dinner.

When I got out it was still a glorious afternoon so I plugged in my walkman and wandered up to the Park Retiro, huge gardens with a boating lake, semi-circular semi-facist collonade and lots of cafes. I had a horchata drink at the cafe. It was nice. Kind of like a pork-bits frappuccino. (Just joking: Im pretty sure its vegetarian)

Then walked back down towards the Gran Via. Got sidetracked by a book fair of antequarian books. Books are my weakness. If I have a vice of any kind it is buying too many books. But I did manage to resist.

Last month in Segovia

This page from my May blog got lost in cyberspace... Here it is again.

Up at 4.00am, some last minute packing, check the internet then out the door. Arrrggh! Its grey and raining. Catch the 5.53 from Clapham Junction to Gatwick airport. Check in at EasyJet. It really is easy. You just pay your 23 pounds, check in, get on the plane, take off and land in Madrid two hours later!

Diantha, the librarian from the American School at Madrid, is there to meet me with a big sign:LAWRENCE. Her husband Linn is there, too. They take me to the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Plaza Espana. Yay! Its posh and has lots of stars. I like hotels.

My first event, at the American School, isnt until Wednesday, so I have two free days in Madrid. Today Diantha and Linn have drawn the short straw and get to show me around. Tomorrow a parent will play tour guide.

The weather is blue and mild and warm. High gauzy clouds, tender green leaves on the trees, sparkling modern skyscrapers. Linn has a brainwave. They will take me out of modern Madrid to Segovia, a beautiful ancient town with a Roman aqueduct and a fairytale castle. Its only 90 minutes on the freeway.

Or at least it is if everyone else doesnt have the same idea. This is a public holiday, May 2, so lots of other Madrillenos are on their way somewhere nicer, too.

But we get there at last and it really is stupendous. All the stone is a pale golden colour and the aqueduct is marvellous. Diantha and Linn want to take me to one of Spains most famous restaurants. Its called Candido after its late great founder. Its like a Hollywood nightclub. Crowds of hopefuls hanging around the door waiting to get in. We make a reservation for lunch. For 4.00pm. I have not eaten all day but feel strangely calm. Its 3.00 now so we wander the narrow streets of this beautiful town on this beautiful spring day and sit in a sunny square to have a drink. I have a non-alcoholic bitter. I love its bright red colour and herby taste.

Finally we return to Candidos at 3.55. There are about 50 other hopefuls waiting for their names to be called, too. As the maitre d calls out names there are groans from the disappointed and good-natured ribbing from those who arent too hungry. Finally, at 4.30, our name is called. We go in but its only the first hurdle. We go up narrow stairs and wait outside and arched doorway. This restaurant is on four floors and must serve hundreds a day. Their specialty? Milk-fed suckling pig and little baby lamb: roasted. I go for baby lamb cuz they dont serve it with its little head still on.

Finally we get shown to a table at 5.00 but hey! Thats the time Im used to eating at anyway. I have mushrooms as a starter and the baby lamb. (Eat your heart out, Ricardo!) Its totally unlike British lamb. A crisp, salty, golden-brown crust outside and tender white meat underneath. Almost enough to make me renounce being a vegetarian. For dessert, coffee ice cream and an espresso.

After lunch we drive to a medieval church of the Knights of St John from which we get a stunning vantage point of the fairytale castle, the Alcazar. Apparently Disney based his castle in Disneyland on this and lots of scenes from Camelot were filmed here.

The posh hotel offered me internet access for 11 euros but next door is a grubby internet cafe which only costs 2 euros for an hour. Guess where I'm sitting now?

Oh, and they do have starbucks in Madrid! :-)

Letters from Pompeii

illustration by M. Sasek

Today was my birthday and when the post arrived with a strange parcel I wondered which of my family members it could be from. It wasn't from one of them. It was from Celeste, who is first and foremost a fan of Michael Praed (who reads the abridged audiobooks) and then of the Roman Mysteries. The parcel contained a delightfully illustrated book written in 1952: Letters from Pompeii by Wihelmina Feemster Jashemski. I already have Wilhelmina's excellent Pompeian Herbal. She was one of the excavators of Pompeii, her specialist subject being ancient gardens and plants!

I love old books which are out of print and this one about Pompeii by an expert written for kids will be one that I treasure forever. My husband heard my cries of delight and came to see what I was so excited about.

I will be dipping into this treasure box, which once graced the library of Greenwood Hills Elementary School, and I will share any special nuggets of delight or gems of wisdom. Thank you, Celeste!

Boy Entrancers in Brighton

Richard and I went to Brighton for the weekend. For several reasons:

1. To go to the house-warming party of my former publicity manager, Rowan. She has excellent taste as is proved by the fact that I easily sired her to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Also, she plays trumpet and is a vegetarian.

2. To sign some books for my Spanish dealer (erm... you know what I mean!) so that he can bring autographed copies of my books to all my new fans in Barcelona. (Both of them.)

3. To be a punter at the Brighton Festival, which is always very well done and well worth a visit.

We were staying at the exciting Sea Spray boutique hotel which actually DID have a view of the sea. It is one of those hotels with themed bedrooms. I decided the Warhol and Dali Rooms sounded too surrealistic and the Boudoir Room a bit obvious, so I chose the Moroccan Room. It was quite well done with a saffron-coloured parachute hanging from the ceiling, and Moroccan lamps and cushions and a hookah and everything. But the effect was somewhat marred by the fact that this was a tall Victorian house with narrow stairs and semi-Nazi signs on everything that said things like DO NOT PUT ANYTHING DOWN THIS TOILET AS THE PLUMBER CALL-OUT FEE IS £70. Considering that this toilet was out in the corrider and not even in our own room, I thought the £85-a-night price tag a bit steep. But, hey! this is my birthday weekend so it was a splurge...

We arrived around 6.00 on Saturday evening and saw that we could catch one of the Brighton Festival literary events – a retelling of Ovid's Metamorphoses – before we went to Rowan and Ant's party.

At the Old Market I said to the person buying tickets, 'I see Garth Nix was here earlier. Is he still in Brighton? Because I met him once at a festival in Canada and he might remember me...' Here I trailed off lamely.

'He's staying at the Hotel Seattle,' she offered, 'but right now he's just next door in the bar!'

And so he was! He was very nice and pretended to remember me. My husband Richard is Garth Nix's greatest fan. (He spent one entire day of a recent holiday in Spain reading Lirael. When he finished it I breathed a sign of relief, thinking we could go out and see Spain, or something. But what did my husband do? He opened it up and started all over again!) So Richard stood wagging his tail and panting with happiness as his idol chatted with us. Garth Nix is one of the nicest and most humble authors I have ever met. And funny, too. He was promoting his latest book, Drowned Wednesday.

And BONUS! He was sitting with fellow kids' author Louise Rennison, who was promoting her latest book, ...Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers I have heard Louise speak before, at the Children's Book Group convention in Birmingham a year ago, and she is hilarious. On an impulse I bought her latest book, and got her to sign it. I'm glad I did because I loved it! She has a wonderful main character called Georgia Nicolson, who thinks only about boys and makeup and says stuff like 'it was vair, vair nice and thrice fabby.'

We went in to see the Ovid, which had specially good special effects, and then caught a taxi to Rowan and Ant's party. The party was vair, vair nice and thrice fabby.

The next morning the beating rain and howling wind woke me at 5.30am but by 9.00am – when we went down to breakfast – the sun had come out. Breakfast was great. Richard had an English cooked breakfast, I had the exact same thing but vegetarian. Brighton is one of the few places in England where you can get vegetarian options. No wonder Rowan loves it!

We wandered along the sea front, admiring the jade green sea dotted with whitecaps as we pulled our collars up. Then did a quick tour of Brighton's Aquarium, more for Richard than me as those things always make me feel sorry for fish that can swim hundreds of miles but are cooped up in a tiny tank.

After that we met my overseas bookfair guy, Gary, plus his partner and dog, and I signed some books in a tearoom.

Then another wander along the seafront, looking for somewhere to eat that night, and then back to the Old Market for Meg Rosoff, who was talking about her book, How I Live Now.

Meg was very interesting and one thing in particular struck me. She said that as a writer she struggles most with plots, but recently she discovered you can STEAL PLOTS FROM THE GREEK MYTHS! What have I been saying all along?? Huh? HUH??

After Meg Rosoff's talk, we had a drink in The Lanes in weak but brave sunshine and read our books. I was chuckling over Boy Entrancers. Georgia Nicolson's 'desire line' (to quote my mentor John Truby), is simple to snog boys. It's that simple. Georgia even has ratings for a snogfest scale. You can see them at 'her' site: www.georgianicolson.com*hee*

After our little taste of cafe life, we went to see Kingdom of Heaven, Ridley Scott's new film. Every review I've read panned it, so my hopes were not high. But I thought it was wonderful! Ridley Scott remains one of my favourite directors. He got the most out of the his writers and actors (it was SO much better than Star Wars) and despite all the reviewers' snide comments, Orlando Bloom was great. The thing I love about Ridley Scott is that he is so deliciously visual. I especially love the effects he gets with light shinging through dust and smoke.

The film also had a great message: the Kingdom of Heaven is not a place on earth. It's in your heart.

Cherubs and Romans

Today I did a new kind of event: sharing the stage with another author!

Cherub series author Robert Muchamore and I spoke to 60 boys from Shrewsbury House School in the morning and 60 lively girls from Brentford School for Girls in the afternoon.

Robert and I both stood up and spoke for about ten minutes about how we got started writing, then fielded their questions, both of us answering whenever we could. They boys were especially well-prepared and had each read at least one of my books and at least one of Robert's books each!

In the break between sessions the Waterstone's staff gave us lunch: cheese, salad and vegetarian samosas. The lovely organizer Alex (right, with me and Robert) even did a Starbucks run to get me a mocha. It was great meeting Laura and Gerald who are both Buffy fans. Especially Gerald.

I had mentioned the archetypes in my talk to the boys and over lunch Gerald and I tried to match them up with the crew of Serenity:

The Hero: Mal
The Faithful Sidekick: Zoe
The Funny One: Wash
The Wild One: Jayne
The Mentor: Reverend Book?

Of course because it is Joss, the characters are much more than archetypes. Apparently he took aside the actor who plays Jayne and said 'You are really the hero of this story.' A good author knows that each character – like each of us – is the hero of his own story. I have great hopes for Serenity, out this October.

Joss, don't let me down the way George let me down last night with Revenge of the Sith...

Mad Max in Barcelona

Last night was my last night in Barcelona, so I did the traditional thing to do on one's last night in Barcelona.

I watched Mad Max I and Mad Max II. (Thanks for loaning me the DVDs, Kirsten)

The first one was pretty weak as a story. Just a lot of violence and erm... violence. And as John Truby says, revenge is never a good desire line.

But the second one, subtitled The Road Warrior, was spot on. Not only did it hit the seven beats I'm always talking about but it also uses the four classic archetypes I've been telling kids about for the past few years.

The Hero: Mad Max
The Faithful Sidekick: His Dog
The Funny One: The Giro Captain
The Wild One: The Feral Kid

There is no mentor, though you could say Mad Max is the Feral Kid´s mentor and the talisman is the music box mechanism...

Now some people have suggested I based Lupus on the Feral Kid in Mad Max II. It´s reasonable to suggest it, but last night was the first time I've seen either of them!

One of the kids at a school here in Spain mentioned Tarzan when I was discussing the four basic archetypes. Brilliant!

The Hero: Tarzan
The Faithful Sidekick: Jane
The Funny One/Wild One: Cheetah (the chimp)

It even works with Sex and the City!

The Hero: Carrie
The Faithful Sidekick: Charlotte
The Funny One: Miranda
The Wild One: Samantha

Gaudi & Picasso

No point getting up early in Barcelona. Everything, and I mean everything is closed until 10.00.

OK, you can get juice and a chocolate croissant and eat it in the Placa de Reial but they won´t even have cleaned up last night's rubbish by 8.00am. Barcelona is definitely not the city for early birds like me.

I wandered around the empty streets until 10.00, then bought a Barcelona card at an Information Kiosk. The Barcelona card gives you free travel all around the city and discounts on entry to all museums, sometimes 100% discount. I bought one for two days. At only 20 euros it was a bargain.

Then onto the metro to a stop called Lesseps which looked pretty close to Gaudi's famous Parc Guell on the map. It wasn´t and that park is up a rather steep hill. At least I burned off the chocolate croissant. My fellow-writer Robert Muchamore told me I had to visit Parc Guell. He said it was one of his favourite places in the world. It was amazing, but also depressing in a strange way. All the beauty of Gaudi´s organic shapes, fairytale houses, broken tile mosaics, slanting columns and what do the Spaniards do with it? They spray graffiti on it and leave their empty rubbish lying around. It is such a shame. Also, it was crowded at 11.00 am on a sunny Friday. Very crowded.

I used my Barcelona card to get a bus down to Sagrada Familia (Sacred Family) Gaudi's piece de resistance, the great cathedral he spent his last years working on. I got off the bus and was looking at my map working my way towards where I thought it should be. Suddenly I looked up and there it was, at the end of a long street called Avenguda de Gaudi. Absolutely breathtaking. I sat at a cafe and sipped a bitter Kas and read my guide book, then went in.

The cathedral is stunning. It is essentially a building site and has no roof but in a strange way this makes it all the more impressive. They are still working on it, building four or five more towers to compliment the eight existing ones. Down in the basement, in the museum, you can look through a glass window to the workshop and actually see the architects and builders going over blueprints and handling white plaster models of the towers. Amazing.

The controversial western facade, with its depiction of the last hours of Jesus's life, the passion, was amazing, too. So many images to look at and touch and meditate on. Very bleak and very powerful. This has got to be my favourite cathedral in the world. I can´t wait until it´s finished.

After that I took the metro back to the stop nearest my flat, Liceu. I had my felafel at 3.00 and a nap like a proper resident of Barcelona.

I surfaced at 4.45 and wandered down Carre Ferran which I now realize is the decumanus maximus of Roman Barcino. And the Placa Jaume was the forum. I even found four huge marble columns that formed the facade of the Temple of Rome and Augustus. They are well hidden behind the cathedral. If you keep going down the street several metres above the decumanus maximus it becomes Av. de la Princesa and if you are lucky you might find the Picasso Museum.

It is a very odd collection in five beautiful converted townhouses. It has a lot of Picasso´s early work, especially from when he was 14 to 19 years old. Then a few works from his twenties, up to 1917. (Picasso was born in 1881).

Then there is nothing until 1957! So we skip forty years.

But stepping into the later rooms is like entering another universe. A great one!

I usually hate pigeons but there is a whole room of pigeons from the dovecote of Picasso´s villa in Cannes. The next room is full of his wonderful interpretations of Velasquez´s Las Meninas. What struck me with huge force was how much he was enjoying himself in all these big bright paintings. They are full of colour, confidence and most of all a wicked humour.

In one of his interpretations of Velasquez's masterpiece he has made the infanta scowl by giving her a V above the two dots for her eyes and the dot for her mouth. And the dog in the picture appears to be squatting to do his business. Very clever. Very funny. I do love Picasso.

Stinky Barcelona!

Done it, Miss!

That's what all the little year 2 kids used to say when I used to teach art and asked them to draw a circle. They would wave their papers in the air and cry 'Done it, Miss!' I feel like shouting that now.

I've finally done my last event at a Spanish International School. And survived. What's more, I´m still standing!

My last Spanish school (which shall remain nameless) was great, except for some of the 9th graders who skipped my talk to go smoke behind the bushes. Their loss. I wish the three or four girls who had come hadn´t bothered. They sauntered in late, tossing their glossy hair and chewing metaphorical gum of boredom. They kept the 8th graders waiting nearly a quarter of an hour.

It is very frustrating to give so much of yourself and get scorned. I am pretty sure my days of doing these events are numbered. Also, how many times can you describe how Romans went to the toilet and keep it fresh?

But my morning event in costume went well. It´s the first time I've done my talk al fresco. Thanks to a beautiful day and a good PA system we pulled it off.

The librarian and I had a lovely lunch in a nearby leafy square, serenaded by the whine of motorscooters and the cooing of pigeons. We stopped for ice cream for dessert before the afternoon sessions.

Anyway, I got through it and was back in Las Ramblas by 5.30.

I had my usual felafel from Maoz Felafel on Ferran, then rushed to the Museu d'Història de la Ciutat and went underground to see the Roman city which lies beneath the modern one.

It is fascinating. The Roman city was founded during the reign of Augustus and it was called Barcino.

Among the ruins they have excavated and left visible are the remains of a fullonica, (a dye-shop and cleaners), and a fish-sauce factory. I am telling you: that part of Barcino would have smelled extremely nasty!

They used urine to bleach cloth, and the garum or fish-sauce factories were so smelly they were often well outside of town.

Ewww! Stinky Barcelona!

Tibidabo & the Saint of Beekeepers

What a difference a good sleep makes! Last night I had a monk's dinner of felafel with pineapple for dessert and no alcohol. I slept like a baby right through until 6.45am. Late for me!

For the last few mornings I have emerged from my narrow doorway into the narrow medieval street (always dark) just before 8.00. Two women in reflective vests are always hosing down the street with water at this time. I can usually catch a taxi on Las Ramblas and I did that today at around 8.00. Oak House is up near Tibidabo and this morning the traffic was appalling. It took us forty five minutes and the driver was ranting and gesticulating the whole time. He was disappointed that I was relaxed about it but it was a beautiful sunny morning and I´d given myself plenty of time.

My organizer wasn't there but a brilliant technical guy named Tico had set up the state-of-the-art auditorium with a laptop connected to a big screen, and two working mikes. I also had a stage and desk. Another pleasant surprise was how well-behaved the pupils were, even though they were 99% Spanish. I was also impressed by the building, which is a beautiful converted villa with pines, acacias, olives, (everything but oak) and also mosaics and towers and fountains.

I did my introductory talk twice for an hour and a quarter which is stretching it for English pupils, not to mention Spanish kids. But we pulled it off.

Then I gave my First Lines and Writing Tips talk, and after lunch (at 2.20!)I gave my Writing Tips and Hero´s Journey talk to years 5 and 6. The kids were very bright and enthusiastic. Like the kids at St Pauls, they waved cheerfully at me whenever I passed by.

Oak House is not far from the school where I'll be tomorrow, so I went over there after I'd finished, dropped off my things and asked the way to Tibidabo, which was in sight. Tibidabo is Latin, of course. It comes from the passage in the gospels where Satan tempts Jesus. Satan takes Jesus up on a high mountain and says 'I will give you (tibi dabo) all these if you worship me...'

A nice teacher drove me up there but the teleferique was closed so I couldn't go right up to the monastery. I had a coke in a scenic bar with a breezy view over Barcelona, then caught a bus and metro down to Plaza Catalunya, which is the heart of Barcelona and only two blocks from my flat.

One of the kids at Oak House had mentioned he bought some of my books at the biggest department store in Barcelona, El Corte Ingles, so I went up to the 7th floor and found copies of all except the first book.

Then I wandered back towards my little flat via Zara, a women's clothing store which is much cheaper here than in London. I bought a silk shirt and succumbed to candy-striped socks. Then back to the flat to drop off shopping, then out again to my felafel place. It's called Moaz Felafel on Carre de Ferran near the Placa Reial and you can buy a felafel salad with a free drink for only 3.80 euros, which is brilliant! It was v. tasty.

I went back to the flat to wolf it down and while I was reading my Dorling Kindersley Eyewitness Guide I noticed that today, May 11th, is a special festival day. It is Dia de Sant Ponce, patron saint of beekeepers and herbalists! 'Stalls along Carrer Hospital sell herbs, honey and candied fruit...' says the guide. Frantically I scanned the map to find Carrer Hospital. There it was! Just across Las Ramblas! I swallowed the last of my felafel, grabbed my camera and went out just as the bells were ringing 8.00pm. Thankfully the stalls were still out, dozens of them lining a fascinating street with a strong Middle Eastern flavour in a district which is called Raval. I bought some eucalyptus caramel, licorice strips and honeycomb. Took lots of great photos, too.

P.S. Richard just sent me this passage from one of our favourite historical writers, Patrick O'Brian. It´s from Master and Commander and it's at the beginning of the sequence about the capture of the Cacafuego. I asked him to look it up because I remember Stephen mentions Tibidabo. (Stephen and Jack are on board the ship looking towards Barcelona.)

'To the left of the smoke, southwards, that is the hill of Montjuic, with the great castle; and the projection to the right is Barceloneta.' said Stephen. 'And rising there beyond the city you can make out Tibidabo: I saw my first red-footed falcon there when I was a boy. Then continuing the line from Tibidabo through the cathedral to the sea, there is the Moll de Santa Creu, with the great mercantile port; and to the left of it the basin where the king’s ships and the gunboats lie.'

'Many gunboats?' asked Jack.

American School of Barcelona

Sitting at Happy Talk internet cafe about a stones throw from my little apartment in Barcelona´s gothic quarter.

I had a long day today but a good one. The librarians at the American School of Barcelona did a great job organizing everything and my event went really well.

I arrived at the school around 8.15 by taxi to find Helen and Susan taping a huge sign to the front gates. It was done as a mosaic and read ASB WELCOMES CAROLINE LAWRENCE. I felt like a real celeb!

I spoke to about 200 kids from 2nd to 7th grade dressed up as a Roman with my powerpoint slide show. As usual, my sponge-on-a-stick routine got them gasping and laughing. It never fails. Have sponge-stick will travel...

Then I quickly changed back into street clothes to speak to grades 8, 9 and 10. (I would have lost all respect dressed as a Roman matron.)I gave them my writing tips talk which went down well as lots of the boys are huge Star Wars fans.

Then a break before several more workshops down in the library to different age groups.

What was amazing was that a fan from Ontario Canada saw from my EVENTS Diary that I was going to be in Barcelona the same time as she would be here with her family. Jessica and her parents contacted the American School who very kindly said she could come in and attend one of my talks. So she did! And now her parents are taking me out to dinner.

The weather has cooled down a bit and there is a light cloud cover. I´m hoping for warm bright weather one of my talks will be outside. Tomorrow at one of the British Schools here, St Pauls, and on Wednesday I´m at another British school: Oak House.

Madrid vs Bilbao

What a difference Bilbao is from Madrid!

My Spanair plane took off from hot dry Madrid around 7.00pm and 30 minutes later it was banking over mist-swathed green mountains on a rainy evening.

Bilbao is in the Basque region and doesnt feel Spainish at all. It is green, lush, mountainous with half-timbered houses you might expect to find in Bavaria or maybe Northern Italy.

Elvira, the Brooklyn-born librarian of the American School of Bilbao, met me at the airport. Although shes been here thirty years and has been married to a Spaniard almost as long, her accent is still unmistakably New York. She drove me through the rain to a town north of Bilbao called Getxo, pronounced Getcho. I was going to be staying with a family for two nights. We found their apartment house in a posh area of this pretty, rain-washed suburb. Edurne and Juan Bosco are both psychologists and their nine year old daughter Maria is a fan of my books.

They welcomed me into their smart, modern apartment. Their cultured neighbours from upstairs were there, too, because they speak excellent English. After a glass of red wine, some cheese and the inevitable jamon serrano we ate dinner. Edurne had prepared tortilla patates, which is a kind of egg flan with potato. Im not usually keen on egg but it was delicious. She served it with two salads and mini baskets of bread. We had strawberries for dessert.

They had prepared a little guest room for me with four lilies (chosen by Maria) in a glass vase.

Im still fighting a cold, so it was great to get into the tiny clean bed and let the sound of the rain lull me to sleep.

May in Spain 3

Having a lunchtime break at the American School in Madrid. The kids here are bright and cheerful and seemed to enjoy my assembly in costume. We had the powerpoint working so that was good, too.

The room we were going to use for one of the workshops wasn't going to work so we changed plans and moved 150 3rd - 5th graders into the library.

When I was a teacher my old fake Latin motto was 'flexibilitas in omnibus'. There is no such word as flexibilitas but it works for me.

The weather here is still nice: a bit overcast and sultry. Apparently it is raining in Bilbao.

I'll find out soon enough. I'm flying there this evening.