UriGeller.com

The pix of David Berglas and Greville Janner are from this month’s party. The rest are archive pix.

MY dear friend Greville Janner, Baron of Braunstone, celebrated his 80th birthday at the House of Lords earlier this month and, at the party on the terrace overlooking the Thames, I was reunited with a few old friends.
Lord Janner is an enthusiastic amateur magician, who once had the chutzpah to show off his sleight-of-hand skills to Michael Jackson, in front of the illusionist David Blaine, when I took them on a tour of the Houses of Parliament.
Greville is internationally respected as the chairman of the Holocaust Educational Trust, Vice President of the World Jewish Congress and a member of the Inter-Parliamentary Council Against Anti-Semitism. And he seems to know everyone.

It was a pleasure, but not a surprise, to see Paul Daniels and his elfin wife Debbie McGee there — the last time we bumped into each other was at another of Greville’s parties.

The veteran magician David Berglas was in attendance too, talking shop with the host — they are both long-standing pillars of the Magic Circle.

I hadn’t expected to meet the singer Patti Boulaye there, and it was a delight to talk with her again — she’s one of the most committed and energetic people I know.

She reminded me that I’d joined her onstage at the Royal Albert Hall, about six years ago, for a concert to raise funds for Patti’s charity, Support For Africa.

Cliff Richard was at that show, and the Seventies disco divas Boney M, as well as bestselling novelist Freddie Forsyth — but the real stars were the 3000 children who came from all over Britain to form an awesome gospel choir.
I always find it easiest to bend spoons when there are youngsters around, recharging the atmosphere with their energy and, as I picked up my first piece of cutlery, the bowl flew off as if it had been hit by a bullet.
 The next arced upwards more gracefully, and I auctioned it for a four-figure sum to an ebullient computer tycoon sitting in one of the Albert Hall boxes.
But what I remember most is the shocking statistic that Patti whispered to me backstage: “Look at the size of that choir. There are 3000 children there.
“And do you know the worst of it? More people than that will contract AIDS today in my home country, Nigeria.”

Patti needs every ounce of her superhuman energy to tackle a crisis that huge. She has enlisted the backing of international statesmen, such as the charity’s patron, former Prime Minister John Major, and the fund’s first target was to build an HIV clinic in the community of Ikot Efah, where Patti grew up.
“We’re making progress,” she told me, “but there is still a mountain to climb.”
If anyone can conquer it, Patti can.

MY love of jewelry began with my mother and an enamelled medallion of a Dutch windmill.
It was a gift from a friend, who ran a laundrette around the corner from our apartment in Tel Aviv — Muti worked as a seamstress, often repairing customers’ garments there.
People sometimes dropped off dresses and jackets without checking first that they’d emptied the pockets and removed the pins and brooches.
Muti, who had to raise me on a pittance that barely covered our rent, never mind our food, could not understand how anyone could be so wealthy, or so careless, as to leave valuable jewelry on a dress that was going to the cleaners.
The owner would always keep the items for months, in case they were reclaimed, but few were. One day, he reached into his desk and offered my mother the pick of his lost property.
I’ll never know why she chose that medallion, but whenever we visit Holland and see the windmill sails turning in the breeze, I’m reminded of those days of poverty and happiness.
That was the beginning of my passion for designing jewelry.
My latest range, for the shopping channel QVC, is carved from smoky crystal, and the inspiration for that came from Tel Aviv too.
I was walking on the beach there when my eye fell upon a piece of opaque glass, rubbed smooth by the sea.
It must have been hundreds, perhaps thousands of years old — I clasped it in my hands and experienced a vivid sensation of life aboard a sailing ship, with the salt wind in its rigging.
Perhaps that piece of glass was part of a Phoenician trader’s cargo, in the days of Alexander the Great, and was thrown over the side after an attack by pirates.
Or perhaps it was part of Helen of Troy’s dowry, looted from the burning city by victorious Greeks whose ships were later dashed to splinters by the storms.
Or perhaps I’m being too romantic . . . Muti always said I had an overactive imagination.
One thing is sure: that fragment of smoky glass fired me to create some of my most beautiful pieces, all fashioned from million-year-old rock crystal — smooth, tactile and spectacularly beautiful.
Rock crystal is usually clear, but I have deliberately used opaque stones. The result is similar to leaded glass — except glass has to be lit artificially to glow at its best, whereas crystal burns from within.
When I want to remember my mother, and meditate on the love she gave all through my life, I like to go to the room in our house that was once her own, and hold a piece of her jewelry in my hand.
Diamonds are crystals too, and all crystals absorb and emit energy. I can feel her life force, emanating from her favourite brooches and rings . . . and I can almost hear her voice.