It’s like arriving somewhere that you’ve always wanted to be.

Stimulating in every way.

Openness, curiosity and compassion.

Jumping on the seats of a deserted carriage on a London-bound train from Canterbury in 1989.

If it wasn’t for coronavirus, it would be right now. All my life I’ve felt a pressure to achieve. It’s gone now, and that gives me a sense of freedom. Whenever I, for short moments, forget about corona and climate change, I’m happy.

My surname. You have no idea how many versions I’ve read and heard. It was especially irritating during my Abba years. You can imagine someone calling our hotel and saying: “I’d like to speak to one of the guys in Abba.” Who do you think the receptionist called, Andersson or Ulvaeus?

A cabaret act with Agnetha, Frida and Benny. It was in a nightclub in Gothenburg and one night we had seven in the audience. It was before we found out that we were a pop group.

Successful like my two uncles, who were paper industry magnates.

Nothing, really. But without little sleeping pills, I’d go crazy.

In my professional life, the musical Chess on Broadway. It was a resounding fiasco and played for two months. The butcher of Broadway, Frank Rich of the New York Times, was probably very pleased: I’ve never seen such a bad review in my life.