I am so curious. We had my son christened because there may be a god but, equally, my partner is a science teacher, so I am also completely open to the possibility that nothing happens.

I think we’re definitely gone, but I do think people leave traces everywhere from what they did in life, and live on and continue to make an impact through the ripple effect of that.

Other people get sad.

I don't believe in an afterlife. I don't believe in a single or multiple godhead. I respect people who do, but I don't believe it myself. But there's a big but which enters in here. I am much more conscious than I ever was, for obvious reasons, of what it will mean to people left behind once I'm dead. It won't mean anything for me. But it will mean a lot to them. ... So in one curious way I've come to believe in the afterlife as a place where I still have moral responsibilities, just as I do in this life except that I can only exercise them before I get there. Once I get there, it'll be too late.

A receding hairline.

Last year, during four days in January, when I directed Rhoda, my second short film, in a tiny house in Camberwell with Juliet Stevenson and Emma D’Arcy.

Mistaking shyness for not having anything to say.

Someone said that I had a laugh like Jimmy Carr.

I spent about five years living in Paris thinking I would become Kristin Scott Thomas, and it didn’t happen.

Not getting to the point.