The other day, when I decided that maybe I had been too harsh on mid-period Sting.

I can’t remember when I read, or was told, that he considered it a good thing to spend a short time every day thinking about death, thus getting used to its inevitability and coming to understand that something inevitable is natural and can’t be too bad, but it was in my early teens, and it struck me as a sensible idea. Of course I didn’t set out to think about death in a regular way every day, but I did think about it quite often, and sure enough, it worked. Why coming to see death’s naturalness should have caused belief in an afterlife to melt away, I am unsure, but it did.

This morning I decided I am not going to take a job that I’ve been offered.

I believed that the real challenge in love was finding ‘the right one’. I now realise that it’s not a case of finding the right one, so much as learning to love rightly.

I don’t want my children to look at Netflix and see me on screen in the arms of someone who’s not their dad.

I always acted to be able to afford paints.

Yes. Although I acted early on, I always wanted to be a painter.

I really admire Meryl Streep. I am a very big Bette Davis fan. And I like Anjelica Huston, who also directs.

I know what I’m doing when I’m doing it but I almost don’t know what I’m doing when I’m doing it.

That was scary because I am afraid of guns.