I am 54 and age is slowly writing itself on my face.

Global warming, the ongoing destruction of the planet, Third World debt, the uselessness of the railways, the takeover by the corporations, the scary George Bush person: all these things are important and should be animating me into outrage. Yet somehow they do not.

Acting is the most demanding, painful job in the world.

I like doing things I haven't learnt about yet. I've always been interested in art, and I love doing art.

I see my large nose, like half an avocado. I broke it falling downstairs when I was six, and it now resembles a large blob of play-dough.

Reading the play at home, however fulfilling, can never be the vivacious experience that Shakespeare intended.

I read 'Crime and Punishment' years ago and don't recall the details of it, but I do retain a strong sense of the creeping paranoia and panic.