I never imagined when I began writing in the early 1960s I'd become professional and my life would be transformed.

She liked people. Me, I can take them or leave them, but mostly leave them.

Every time I start a new piece of work, I spend a long while under the duvet thinking I can't do it.

Adrian Mole's father was so angry that so many pepole got divorced nowadays. HE had been unhappilly married for 30 years, why should everybody else get away?

Love is the only thing that keeps me sane.

I took my sight and mobility for granted.

Now I know I am an intellectual. I saw Malcolm Muggeridge on the television last night, and I understood nearly every word. It all adds up. A bad home, poor diet, not liking punk. I think I will join the library and see what happens.