The moment you say, 'Please, give me a reason for this', then you are being impossible and temperamental.

I realised in 1985, after sitting for months and being very down, that I have to move. I have to be busy. Because, otherwise, it is like being in a waiting room. And waiting for what?

I am not a person who can do nothing. I get very bored.

First, love to the family. Second, love to career. Third, love to the audience.

Family dinner in the Norman Rockwell mode had taken hold by the 1950s: Mom cooked, Dad carved, son cleared, daughter did the dishes.

There is a chapter in 'Gentle Regrets' called 'Coming Home' which is really me expressing my later admiration for my father's public spirit.

The school in the Yorkshire mining village in which my father grew up in the 1920s and 1930s allowed only a few children to go to high school, and my father was not one of them. He spent much of his time as a young man repairing this deprivation, mostly at night school.

We want to build a flagship refugee home. And I'm going to establish a charity for traumatized children.