I've been so showered in life, beyond my wildest dreams, such as having a loving partner I never thought I'd have.

I'm trying..." How could I put it? "I'm trying to get far enough down the line so that I can remember." I stopped, then continued: "so that I can remember without the pain killing me" And the days were stacking up. And weeks. And months. It was now almost the middle of June and he'd died in February, but I still felt like I'd just woken from a horrible dream, that I was suspended in that stunned, paralyzed state between sleep and reality where I was grasping for, but couldn't get a handle on normality.

I am different when my nails are done. I am more dynamic. I gesticulate more, I am better at scaring my staff. I can indicate impatience by drumming on tabletops and I can wrap up a meeting with a few choice clatters.

I haven’t had Botox because my face is a bit lopsided and I depend on keeping everything animated so that people don’t notice.

You've recognised a fundamental feature of an addict's life. Maintaining your habit is so important you've no real interest in anything else.

I am prone to despair. We are all born with a particular personality. I get afraid and then I don't want to leave the house.

Minsk! How pissed-off that sounded! It was great. You could scare the bejayzus out of someone if you said it right.