The worst was as a butcher, aged 17.

Filming a TV show in a field in the snow in February in the Dublin hills for 14 hours; the director said, “We’re not going to get that shot today.”

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.

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

I think it would be the moment where I was doing everything right, where I was beyond criticism. It was back in World War II. It was snowing, but everything was black. The trucks were rolling in. I was surrounded by my buddies. And my rifle was between my knees, my helmet on my head. I was ready for anything. And I was right where I belonged. That would be the moment. It would have to be the moment.

What makes life worth living are the saints I meet-they can be long-time friends or someone I meet on a street. They find a way to behave decently in an indecent society.

I don’t think I can control my life or my writing. Every other writer I know feels he is steering himself, and I don’t have that feeling. I don’t have that sort of control. I’m simply becoming.

No. Well, I don’t know. It’s biochemical to be redistributed, certainly.

Yes, well, that’s the reason that I don’t want to be in New York any longer. I don’t want to go to parties any more. There are no familiar faces anymore. You know, you go to a party and you hone in on the couple people you know. There are none of those people for me at parties any more. I’ve lost my sister, my brother, my editor, my publisher. It’s a whole generation gone by. Old war buddies of mine, my colleagues, my family.

I don’t much want to play anymore. I enjoyed the game as a young man, but I don’t enjoy it now.