Putting chocolate mousse in my agent’s face. Somebody had done it to me – that thing where they go, “Smell this, it smells funny”, and then they put it in your nose. A year later I was in this French restaurant with a very 1980s-style dessert trolley and, before I knew it, I had a bowl of chocolate mousse in front of me. And my agent went, “What’s that smell?”, and it felt impossible not to … I immediately felt awful and tried to apologise. He, of course, said that he found it funny. But I knew he didn’t.

One time I got so drunk in the Soho theatre in London that I fell asleep in the disabled toilet for two hours. People still call the toilet Rosie’s Bedroom.

In the 1950s I went to the Chelsea Arts Club’s New Year’s Eve ball at the Royal Albert Hall dressed as a Christmas pudding, with swimming trunks under my costume and holly in my hair.

One horrible afternoon in Chicago when I forgot my words in The Marriage of Figaro, in a role I’d sung hundreds of times.

My mum [the actor, Sally Dynevor] in so many ways. She is the real definition of a superwoman to me.

That everything happens for a reason.

So many things. Every headline in the newspaper, global warming … the list goes on.

I wish I could be more patient. I always want things to get done or happen now.

Working as a waitress in a cocktail bar in Shoreditch, London.

My housemate, because I keep shrinking his jumpers in the wash.