I had a place in England and was commuting from England to Australia, which is pretty stupid, but after two years I sort of knew what I wanted to do, more or less.

Blank House was exactly a nice empty sheet where nothing was accountable because you were so naughty that you were in Blank House.

My mother felt it was time that I had some parental control, so I went off to America and went to New York.

Once, the parental bed collapsed because all the children sat on it at once.

I was often very, incredibly naughty, and if I didn't come home at tea time I used to be sent to bed without any dinner. But people used to bring me things: I was better fed in bed.

I spoke French a bit, and I could speak a bit of this and that, and when you were taught those things by people who couldn't really do it, you can do some pretty wonderfully, imaginative horrific things to teachers.

You never came home for lunch: you just stayed doing, playing, having fun, surfing, running round.