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!

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 know if I had the chance of going aboard the Titanic in those days, I would have gone - I know I would have. I adore going on the Queen Mary - I think it's the only way to travel from New York.

While other girls swooned over The Beatles and the Rolling Stones, I worshipped Rudolf Nureyev and Isadora Duncan.

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.

I landed the role of Bravo 5, the only female fighter pilot in 'Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace.' I did my bit and fired my guns, but I haven't a notion of which side I was on or who I was firing the guns at.

Mummy always wanted the five children, and she knew she couldn't look after them all because she was this absolutely glorious woman who loved going to parties and going to the races, and she just didn't have time.