I don't think the world has treated me badly at all. I sometimes get reviewed spitefully by critics. But I don't think the world has treated me badly. I've been rather well treated I think. I've done a lot of work which I've enjoyed doing. Ageism has treated me badly. But it's also treated lots of other people badly as well. People assume that you ought to be cheerful all the way and I've got this, I think, unjustified reputation for being grumpy. I'm angry or disappointed at the condescension which I encounter from people who are 30 years younger than I am and know 100 per cent less than I do. That's all.

[on his knighthood] I have serious misgivings about having accepted it. It's part of the general hemisphere of English snobberies in which titles are said to be so important. It goes with people who can boast about having been at Eton or having been in the Royal Horse Artillery. I was silly to have accepted. My children urged me in the end. They said, "Go on, Dad, you deserve it". My wife was furious when I accepted it and cannot bear to be called Lady Miller.

I really disapprove of the idea of the thing called the National Theatre being on the south bank of the Thames. It's as absurd as having the National Health Service at St Thomas' Hospital. I think there's a whole group of theatres all over the UK which at a certain level ought to have that NT logo, in that they are a national theatre.

Unless you spend a great deal of time networking and going out and having dinners and making appointments and seeing people and schmoozing, you don't get jobs after a certain age. Next year I'll be 80, and they assume that if you're 80, the chances are that you're either in a care home, and that in any case you're probably dead from the neck up, so you don't get jobs. But if you keep your wits about you and you don't develop Alzheimer's, you're probably better the older you are because you've seen a longer stretch of human life. I think I'm probably as good if not better than I was when I was younger. But they ignore that entirely.

When you get to my age, there's a certain point at which you're assumed to be dead. Or if not dead, then almost certainly rotting.

There are all sorts of tiny movements we make when relating to another person. So when I say, "What about this little hand movement?" I only have to say it once. They reply, "Oh, of course! You don't tell us how to do anything: you remind us of what we how to do anyway".

I have a simple formula as a director. It's nothing more really than reminding singers of what they know already and have forgotten, a redirecting of their attention to Chekhovian detail--the little, negligible actions which are made considerable . . . So the funny thing is that once I start directing the drama, I don't have to tell them what to do, any more than I have to tell a child to raise its voice at the end of an interrogative sentence.

Some older singers get ossified. They say, "No, I mustn't stand there, Alfredo would not do that" and I always want to reply, "When exactly were you last in touch with Alfredo on this subject?" But if they are young, they will do anything - even act.