When I look in the mirror, I sometimes think I'm getting old, but then I have two generations behind me so that helps puts things into perspective. I am a grandmother now, but at least my nine-year-old grandson Jude calls me Glamma and not Granny.

I think the deafness affects me more than I realise I think it makes me more tired. I loathe parties. I attend, smile and leave.

We all live in fear of cancer, but to be told you have skin cancer was terrifying.

I have to concentrate more intently when people speak. I always have to position myself on their right side so that I can hear out of my left ear. I sometimes get a crick in my neck from listening. But I don't there's too much else.

When I got into the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, a doctor told me to give up the course as I'd be totally deaf within a couple of years. But I refused to give in.

My worst holiday was in Athens when I was a young drama student at Rada in 1965. I ran out of money. I had my things stolen and I wasn't able to speak a word of the language.

When I was young I used to smother myself with olive oil mixed with a dash of vinegar to keep the flies away and lay in the sunshine for hours on end. But we knew no better then. Now we know how stupid that was.