Karen Karn

When I was very young, my sister had a friend who was a proper hippy. She was married to a Sri Lankan man and had some kids. Her hair was long, unmanaged and slightly transparent. She wore corduroy jeans and cheesecloth tops. She was of the tradition of never arriving at someone's house empty handed. One day, she came with a book. the Tassajara Bread Book. Since then, the book has been in my possession. Well loved and well utilised. Here's a short excerpt from the film How to Cook Your Life, featuring the book's author, Edward Espe Brown. "It turns out that we'll pay a lot of money not to cook, not to actually confront a half a potato."

In the spirit of minimalism and letting go of the past, I decided it was time to burn my journals. I decided to destroy them a while ago, and today, due to a lack of fire wood, I decided to have a go. I had a conversation with my daughter a long time ago, instructing her that I didn't want her or anyone else to read my journals (in case something happened to me before I had a chance to destroy them). She said I could have them buried with me. A good idea, I thought, but why hold on to any of it any longer? The photographs are a little blurry because of the low light. 2001, the worst year of my life, soon committed to flame. After finding some unused notes and a precious photograph of the kids, I meticulously went through each journal to prevent the destruction of any other hidden treasures. I got through all but three journals yesterday. The sheer volume of paper meant that the wood burner just couldn't handle them all at o...

Some time ago, a friend invited me to have my personal colours analysed. This was something I'd thought of before and was keen to try. As I've said before, being very slightly red-green colour blind, I’ve learned to avoid colour and my wardrobe consists overwhelmingly of grey. Marl grey, to be precise. We agreed on a date and were both very excited. My new make up palette. However, almost two weeks ago, on Sunday 18th May, Noah came down with his regular attack of mucus overload. We’ve been given prescriptions by specialist and our family doctor, but nothing can prevent or ease the symptoms of this horrible affliction. Since he was about six months old, he’s had these attacks. It starts with a headache and a runny nose and develops into a state where angling his head past the true vertical incurs a head ache and/or an avalanche of mucus, down the throat, out of the nose or into the ears. It’s horrific, at best causing extreme discomfort, at worst threate...

I am constantly inspired by the story of a woman who lost everything in a house fire. She and her husband had gone out for the evening and when they came home, their house had been razed to the ground. All she had left, were the clothes she was standing in and the contents of her handbag. What a disaster, you might think... a nightmare! But the woman's take on it was different. Yes, I'm sure she was devastated, as any sane person would be, but ultimately, she said, it gave her a new lease of life. She was forced to do what many of us dream of doing, namely, start from scratch. I'm not saying that everyone has such an enlightening experience when faced with such a disaster. I'm not saying that the woman in question doesn't deserve our sympathy, or that she experienced no sorrow over the loss. Nor am I suggesting that we all hold an almighty bonfire and toss every stitch, every trinket, bauble and utensil into the flames, but just think, for a moment, about...