Of course I have regrets; I'm not stupid.

I'm alive today, I'm well, I'm working, I'm still creative. What more can I say, really?

I went to the big Picasso retrospective at the Tate in the sixties, and I think I went to an Andy Warhol retrospective at the Tate in the sixties, too. My mother was very good at taking me to things like that. We lived in Reading, but we went on these cultural trips to London.

I've learnt to accept what has happened to my voice, I suppose, but I do wish it didn't sound quite so rough.

I never saw myself as beautiful. I can look back and see it now, but then? Never.

I focus on the individual and not seeing this great big monster, "the press."

I come from a very left wing Socialist family, anti-war and anti-empire.