I didn't marry a Beatle, I married a broke student who played the guitar and ponced all my grant money off me for fags.

Noel [Charles, husband] and I love cooking. He does his cooking and I do mine. I'm the traditional English cook, with a twist now and then. Because I was married to an Italian, I'm also pretty good at Italian food. Noel, he can cook anything, so can Julian.

Ringo had this habit of lighting up two cigarettes, one for Maureen at the same time that he lit his own. I remember thinking it was a loving thing to do and wishing John did it for me. But that would have been too obviously demonstrative, maybe, for John.

When John was with me, it was total commitment. Whatever he did outside our relationship didn't seem very important. We were together such a lot of the time that whatever other affairs he had once we met couldn't have amounted to much because I was with him most of the time. He kept me in Liverpool as late as I dared stay.

John needed to escape his reality. I understood completely but I couldn't go along with him.

John's relationship with each of the other Beatles was different. He was at his most relaxed with Ringo, who often had him in stitches with his jokes.

John and I weren't capable of getting back to Kenwood from there, so the four of us sat up for the rest of the night as the walls moved, the plants talked, other people looked like ghouls and time stood still. It was horrific: I hated the lack of control and not knowing what was going on or what would happen next.