At eighteen, I was the oldest virgin in Chelsea.

I don't know why people keep banging on about the '60s. I was very conventional because I came from a conventional family and I didn't go off with different people - I rather wish I had now, seeing all the fun everyone else was having. I just remember being married to [composer] John Barry and trying to be the best wife in the world. Newsweek magazine came over to London and did an interview with him and they wrote about "John Barry and his E-type Jaguar and his E-type wife." I remember thinking, "I'm not sure this is entirely a compliment" - on the contrary. But that's exactly what I was. And when John went off to America with another girl, what should have been a disaster for me was, in fact, the thing that actually made me have to go and do something for the first time in my life, because I had my baby, Kate, to support. So I went to France.

Any film I see at two o'clock in afternoon with my mother seems to cast a strange spell that means we both come out sobbing.

By meeting people in Sarajevo I realized I had nothing to complain about--they'd lost children crossing the road trying to find water. I stopped thinking about my problems and would sit with women in underground places, singing songs.

Big Ben . . . hearing the chimes makes me feel at home.

As there is no one to be pleased or unpleased with me, I'm actually rather merrier with my cat.

David Attenborough... has that wonderful, breathy voice and he's always so fascinated by what he's seeing. There's nothing about him that I can't find attractive.