News of the world beyond convent wall comes to nuns logged on to modern life

Numbers wanting to join the closed order, who rise each day before sunrise and who spend much of their day in silence, went into sharp decline some years ago. With few willing to sign up for a lifetime of contemplative prayer and a routine unchanged since medieval times, the nuns have grown used to being overlooked.

Their presence on a busy road leading into York city centre, is

whispered by a small hand- painted sign, and they know that of the many people who walk past it each day, most don't even notice it. So when Goldsmiths, the London art college whose alumni include Britpop band Blur, and Julian Clary, got in touch, wondering if they'd ever thought how 21st century technology might improve their lives, the nuns, who don't even own a television, were understandably surprised.

"I have to confess we'd never even heard of Goldsmiths," says Sister Paul, the only one of the nine Poor Clare nuns who ventures beyond the convent's high walls. The rest have taken a vow of enclosure alongside the usual pledges of chastity, obedience and poverty. "But we were all a little intrigued by what they had to say."

The nuns agreed to meet the team from Goldmsith's Interaction Design Studio and after months of consultations and discussions, a shortlist of possible gadgets to bring the nuns in closer contact with the rest of the world was drawn up.

A large screen connected to the internet was rejected for being too obtrusive, a digital garden ornament also didn't meet with approval, but they did eventually settle on a small digital device which brings rolling news headlines into the convent.

Affectionately known by the nuns as Goldie, the T-shaped gadget sits on a table outside the Poor Clare's chapel and whenever they're passing they can glance at the latest news and, should they hear of some new disaster, they then dedicate their prayers to those most in need.

"I often come here in a quiet moment and just stand for 10 minutes reading what comes up," says Sister Colette, the order's Mother Abbess.

"We do occasionally listen to the radio to catch up with world events, but this is quite a thing of beauty."

The nuns admit some of the headlines have been a little bewildering. News Michael Essien was praying for his team-mates' success in the World Cup was met by blank looks and FIFA's ultimatum to the Nigerian president over his decision to ban the country's football team from international tournaments didn't warrant any calls for divine intervention.

However, more often than not the nuns do discover some cause in need of a few prayers.

"As well as the news headlines, it's also linked to an internet site where people post how they are feeling at any particular time of day," says Sister Paul, the convent's now resident expert on the

web. "Sometimes you get people saying, 'I feel 21' or the other day someone wrote they felt sleepy. There's not an awful lot you can do with those messages. Feeling 21 is not exactly a moral dilemma is it? But we do sometimes get a posting from someone who is feeling scared or lonely and we do remember them in our prayers."

As with all new technology, the Goldie has not been without the occasional hitch. The machine crashed completely earlier this year and, with the Goldsmiths team marooned in America thanks to the volcanic ash cloud, the nuns turned IT specialists. Sister Paul followed the instructions for just such an emergency, but the machine refused to blink into life.

"It basically said 'switch it off and switch it back on again'," she says. "I guess that's the modern equivalent of giving it a bit of a kick. Needless to say it didn't work, but eventually they did get us back online."

The nuns have certainly come a long way since the convent's solitary computer was delivered three years ago. They are now in regular email contact with the other Poor Clare orders dotted around the country and the technology means they can be in touch with family in an instant.

"It was funny really when we bought the computer," says Sister Paul. "We were the last of the Poor Clares to get one and the man who delivered it, plugged it in, but that was it. We had no idea what to do with it. It just sat there while we waited for someone to come round to tell us how to use it."

Technology aside, little has changed for the Poor Clares since the

order was first established back in the 13th century and each day follows the same regimented structure as the last.

They rise at 5.30am and after a simple breakfast of cereal and perhaps a couple of digestive biscuits, the morning sessions of communal prayer, interspersed with housework, are followed by a midday mass. Lunch is the nun's main meal and it's always soup followed by potatoes and vegetables and occasionally a piece of cake – the Poor Clare's vegetarianism is just another part of their frugal living.

During the afternoon there's more communal prayers and once dinner – usually bread, cheese and perhaps a little salad – has been eaten in silence they break for free-time. For the most part that means reading scriptures before evening prayers. "We don't talk during meals as we listen to recordings of conferences say about a particular saint or a church teaching, but each night at 7.45pm we have half an hour or so of what we call communal recreation," adds Sister Paul. "Then we talk all the time. We're usually in bed by 9pm, after getting up so early, we're normally ready for sleep by then."

The nuns admit their way of life and unshakable faith can seem at odds with a modern world littered with distractions and they understand the strength of their vocation is difficult for many to comprehend.

As a child, Sister Paul says even she had ambitions to marry a millionaire. It was, her mother said a good idea considering her expensive tastes, but in her teens she felt a calling to a more religious way of life and after five or six years of studying she made the decision to join the Poor Clares.

"A lot of people who visit tell us how wonderful it must be to live in such peace and quiet, but wanting an occasional bit of serenity is very different from being committed to a lifetime of it," she says. "Getting up at 5.30am for a week is one thing, getting up at 5.30am for the rest of your life is another.

"It is a life of sacrifice and not just for us, but also for our families. When I told my mum that I was thinking of being a nun, I'm sure she had doubts, but ultimately she said that if I was happy, then she was happy and that's the best support you can have.

"On the plus side, as a nun in a closed order they always knew were I was."

The sisters don't pretend the future of the Poor Clares, at least in this country, is rosy. They know there is unlikely to be young blood to follow in their footsteps, but they remain remarkably sanguine about what lies ahead.

"There has actually been a slight rise in the number of vocations in the Third World, but in the West we do struggle," says Sister Paul. "For a long time we had about 20 nuns in this community. Now we are down to nine and whichever way you look at it that's a big drop.

"It's not the sort of job you can advertise in a newspaper is it? I'm not sure how many response you would get to a job description for a Poor Clare.

"But whatever happens, we know it will be God's way."

Professor's leap of faith

Bill Gaver admits the Goldie is one of the more unusual projects he's ever worked on.

As professor of design at Goldsmiths, he's spent his career looking at how new technology can be used to help people in their everyday lives, but he knew working with a closed order of nuns in York was always going to present a very different challenge.

"We often work with groups who think the ideas we come up with are slightly crazy, and the nuns were a little flabbergasted at first by the technology," says Prof Gaver. "There were times when I wondered whether the project would work, but they were so quick to pick up on what we had in mind and were completely on board with us right from the start."

Since installing Goldie at the York convent some months ago, Prof Gaver and his team have remained very much in touch with the nuns, but now when he visits the convent he admits it's as much for pleasure as business.

"It's a very special place and I have come to feel very protective about the nuns."