Travelling to make television programmes means I have some unusual food memories. In Pasto, Colombia, I was taken to a restaurant where I chose my meat for the evening from a cage of white rats. It tasted perfectly good - like rabbit.

You have to be damn certain you're putting something better in its place.

Recently, I had a hip resurfaced. It's different from a hip replacement because it's done with titanium. I like to think that it's the consequence of riding horses so strenuously, but I fear it's much more mundane and was just early-onset arthritis.

I hate flying. My stomach churns at the mere thought of it.

Nothing can really prepare you for you the sheer overwhelming experience of what it means to become a mother. It is full of complex emotions of joy, exhaustion, love, and worry, all mixed together.

In life eternal, there is perfect joy and light, without pain or torture, and there is communion with God Himself and His angels.

Holy Joy were a cult '80s band led by the wonderful songwriting genius that is Johny Brown.

You can wine and dine all around the globe but the joy of coming back home to a meal cooked by your mom is pure bliss.