I play Nitin Sawhney's 'Letting Go' repeatedly, nonstop. I find it transformative. I'm so glad iPods were invented so I didn't have to drive everyone around me mad with the repetition.

I'm very different to my mum. I'm not as beautiful as she is, nor - she probably despairs about this - as groomed. I certainly rebelled against her idea of looking well turned-out. I spent several years with a shaved head in jeans and baggy shirts.

My kids always say to me, 'Can we watch TV?' I say, 'Absolutely!' because then I can get something done. But then they say, and I wait for it, 'But can you watch with us?' My moment of freedom vanishes. So not only do I not think TV's that great and I hate sitting in front of it, but I have to with them.

My stepfather introduced me to The London Library when I was about 18; the clientele has definitely changed since then, but it is still a wonderful oasis in the middle of London.

I always keep myself busy. I'm writing. Or I'm creating something. Or I'm doing stuff with the kids. I'm up incredibly early in the morning; I go to bed incredibly late at night.

Scribbling things down is my therapy. I filter later.

I think the difference between finding happiness, or moments of happiness, is how you choose to interpret things. That's a rather shocking responsibility. That we're responsible for our own happiness. It's not those around us.