I've made great friends through acting. When I'm with Victoria Wood and Julie Walters, we have grand fun. We can make each other howl with laughter because we know each other so well.

I would do nearly anything for a laugh, to tell the truth. And I'm a particular favourite with young men with earrings.

If I ever married, I know I would dread the daily sound of the key in the door and the casual expectancy of 'Hello! I'm home!

I watch people from the top of buses who don't know they're being watched. It's quite fascinating.

I have a horror of boring someone or, worse still, of someone boring me. I said to my mother when I was seven, 'But, Mums, if it was only my husband and me in the house together, what would we talk about?' I've never wanted to answer my own question, and doubt I'll bother now.

If I look back, my mother was always out. I can remember the perfume and her scarlet chiffon dress and crystal beads, going to a party. She used to play her violin at restaurants later on in life and at old people's homes. She loved the races, which she used to take me to as a child: our carpets were bought with her winnings. Loved her chickens.

I'm a bit of a fraud, really, as I didn't study acting at a drama school.