When I was a kid I was a chambermaid in my family’s hotel, and I once found a strap-on that someone had left behind.

That would have to be a film called Pickup On 101. It was a very interesting story, about a wandering musician and an old guy on his way back to his home town to spend his last days, but they made it into a pile of dishonest trash.

Several: cutting the local vicar's lawn, shovelling shit from a stable, waiting tables, picking up and washing actors' smelly pants and socks.

I was a waitress at a holiday camp. On a Wednesday afternoon all the guys used to pee into the rice pudding and we had to serve it to the customers.

When I started out, people thought I was going to be a flash in the pan, but I’m still working.

That I never found a way to stay in a relationship long term. I always feel trapped.

I read too much science fiction to mess with anything. I’d be terrified that, by changing something, my kids wouldn’t be mine.

I decided I wanted a red convertible Jaguar, because I thought I would look the bee’s knees in it. The first time I drove it with the top down, it scared the shit out of me. After that, I only bought “mom” cars.

When my kids were young enough for me to carry them both, one on each hip. I miss walking in the door and them flinging themselves at me.