You get into your wellie boots and your Range Rover and, walking around with six inches of mud on your shoes, you get to forget about that more polished lifestyle.
I try to say I love you in a million different ways. That's what I aspire to do. That's what I do best.
Recording 'Tusk' was quite absurd. The studio contract rider for refreshments was like a telephone directory.
I wanted to restore an ancient house in Kent, and that's what I did. It was a heap - this Tudor building with the beams painted lime green, so hideous. And I had this idea that I'd love the small village life, with the Range Rover and the dogs and baking cookies for the Y.W.C.A. But then it got so boring.
There were a lot of bad feelings when Lindsey first left the band. But there's been a lot of healing going on, growing up, maturing. The bond is a great deal stronger than what we first thought.
I'd been virtually doing nothing in the country in 16 years of being a retired lady. Being busy walking my dogs - actually not doing anything very constructive. I made one little solo album in my garage.
I couldn't go anywhere unless there was a security guard with me. That spoiled my life. It was like being in captivity. Those days are gone, and I don't ever want to see that happen to me again. Now I can wander around the streets of Los Angeles on my own. I like it that way.
When you're in the same band as somebody, you're seeing them almost more than 24 hours a day. You start to see an awful lot of the bad side 'cause touring is no easy thing.