I couldn't really see the point of having lunch unless it started at 1:00 and ended a week later in Monte Carlo.

After you've read a novel, you only retain a vague memory of its contents. You remember the atmosphere, the odd image or phrase or vivid cameo.

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

I abhor nothing more than bumping into someone I know on the Tube.

About every four years, someone says to me, "I've got a friend who looks exactly like you." What can you say to this?

My sister-in-law believes that few narratives are so tightly constructed that you can't skip boring bits and still keep abreast of what's going on.

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