He's probably the world's most beautiful looking man, yet he doesn't think he's that gorgeous. And to me, he's just smelly, farty Leo.

I had to grow the hair down there. But because of years of waxing, as all of us girls know, it doesn't come back quite the way it used to. They even made me a merkin - a wig - because they were so concerned that I might not be able to grow enough.

I have a crumble baby belly, boobs are worse for wear after two kids...I'm doing all right. I'm 33. I don't look in the mirror and go, "Oh, I look fantastic!". Of course I don't. Nobody is perfect. I just don't believe in perfection. But I do believe in saying, "This is who I am and look at me not being perfect!". I'm proud of that.

Apart from The Holiday, I haven't really spent a huge amount of time in LA. Not that I avoid it, it's just that I don't often go there unless I'm doing press. The one thing I have discovered about LA with kids is that it's really great for children. They really like the sun and making sand castles.

I'm no stranger to the occasional dodgy juice, but it doesn't taste very nice and it is bloody boring. It's not a way to live.

I just look better in simple black things.

It doesn't matter how old you are, or what you do in your life, you never stop needing your mom.