"I wake up at 5.30, when my alarm rings. All of us have to be up by 6am. I have a small cell with a single bed, and there's a sink, a bookshelf, a little stool and somewhere to store underclothes.

We're trained to give our first waking thoughts to God; that's what I try to do. Then I put on my habit. It's tricky getting your veil straight, with all the clips. After that, we have an hour of silent prayer. You can go to the garden, but I usually go to the chapel. Then we go to the refectory for breakfast. I have coffee with milk and a Sweetex; you can have cereal, or bread and butter. On a feast day we might have jam or toast. We eat in silence.

I tidy my cell before the first office of the day, which lasts half an hour. We recite three psalms and sing. Mass is at 8.30. There are places in the house where we can speak, but only necessary speaking, because that's part of our rule: solitude and silence. After mass and thanksgiving, it's work time: I design and print religious cards and I've got my own office. I use Photoshop, but I don't have internet. Only the prioress has that.

Lunch is at 11.30. We take turns reading from a book — at the moment it's a biography of the new Pope. It's full of German pronunciations — you make it up and hope everyone's too busy with their mashed potato to notice. I usually have fish, and there's a salad trolley. The prioress grows vegetables; we've started buying from Tesco on the internet.

I miss a long walk. I love expanses of space. Here there's always a door or a wall. We have two hours of recreation a day. I sometimes do yoga — I learnt it from a book, so I'm not very good. I'll walk in the garden or read National Geographic. It's also a time we can chat.

We're not usually allowed newspapers or TV, but for something important, like the London bombings, we go against the rule. We get prayer requests through the internet, and letters. I write to priests and to my parents — we're not really supposed to make personal calls.

From 1 to 3 it's very silent time, so you try to avoid meeting people. At 3pm we have tea. I have tea and a ginger biscuit. We have our own place settings in the refectory — it goes in order of who took their solemn vows last. That was me; I took mine in 2001.

I was 19 when I became a postulant. Nowadays we allow people to experience life before moving inside, but I didn't.

A school tutor advised me to see some sisters she knew. My mum was cooking chips one night when I said: "I'm going on retreat to the Carmelite convent in Reading." She said: "You better not come back with a veil on!" That night in Coronation Street, Ivy Tilsley said to her husband: "I'm going on retreat to a Carmelite convent." So I said: "You see, Mum? Everybody goes!"

I remember the last night with my mum clearly. We stayed in the lodge attached to the convent. She whispered: "Are you awake?" And I said: "Yeah." And then she said: "Come and give me a hug." The next day I went inside and the gates shut and that was it. I see my parents about four times a year now. And my sister, Sharon, comes with her little ones, Matthew and Katherine. My mum's accepted it now, and my dad is proud.

I grew up in Middlesbrough. My family didn't go to church, but from a very young age I felt a great pull towards Our Lady — a terrific sense of her presence.

I had this little picture of her I bought for 20p. And the first book I got with my own money was a Ladybird book about the Pope. If something came on TV about the church, my father would shout: "Your friends are on!" I'd say to my sister: "How do you fancy having a sister for a sister?" I felt it wasn't a choice I had to make: it had been made for me.

Once a year I go out to the opticians because I wear contact lenses. We get wolf whistles and people shout things like: "Nuns on the run!" People either put you on a pedestal and think you're not human or you're weird.

Occasionally we get schoolchildren visiting. You can spellbind a class of 16-year-olds when they ask, "Don't you watch Coronation Street?" and you say: "No." I explain our relationship with God by saying: "When you're in love with someone, you want to be with that person as much as possible, and you will sacrifice for them." Then they get an idea of what prayer is at a deeper level. It's not just asking for stuff.

We have supper at 6.15. It could be toast or a tin of beans, and we drink tea. At Christmas we'll have a glass of sherry, but normally we don't drink. We have another hour of recreation, and at 8.30 we have the last office of the day — we have seven in total. "Lauds" and "vespers" are the main ones. We have a final blessing, then the great silence begins. It's no talking, and we have to be as quiet as possible. It lasts till breakfast.

Between 9 and 10 I'll usually tidy my office and take a bath. I go to bed at about 10.30. I pray before I go to sleep, and I read. At the moment I'm reading The Way of the Pilgrim — a classic.

Things can be tough. Relationships can be stressful Ð there are bound to be differences of opinion. But you can't harbour grudges: you wouldn't be trying to be a more Christ-like person. The hardest thing would be to have doubts about your faith. I never have. The only thing I've ever doubted is whether I'm worthy to be where I am. I think: "Gosh, it's such a high calling. Who am I?"