I am surrounded by counselors. My sister is a counselor. My daughter is training to be a counselor. A lot of my friends are counselors.

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

8.45 a.m. My mother is in the hospital grounds smoking a cigarette. She is looking old and haggard. All the debauchery is catching up with her.

I don't know why women are so mad about flowers. Personally, they leave me cold. I prefer trees.

I took my sight and mobility for granted.

I am from the working class. I am now what I was then. No amount of balsamic vinegar and Prada handbags could make me forget what it was like to be poor.

Barry Kent's father looks like a big ape and has got more hair on the back of his hands than my father has got on his entire head.