I've often been accused of dressing too well. I've always been fascinated by fashion, though I don't think I'm particularly fashionable.
I've worn a dress at my wedding. I've worn 6-inch Louboutins. I've got no fear and no shame.
It would no doubt be very sentimental to argue - but I would argue it nevertheless - that the peculiar combination of joy and sadness in bell music - both of clock chimes, and of change-ringing - is very typical of England. It is of a piece with the irony in which English people habitually address one another.
Biographies are no longer written to explain or explore the greatness of the great. They redress balances, explore secret weaknesses, demolish legends.
I am suspicious of writers who go looking for issues to address. Writers are neither preachers nor journalists. Journalists know much more than most writers about what's going on in the world. And if you want to change things, you do journalism.
The way you dress or the car you drive or what you spend is to impress other people with how, I guess, successful and rich you are. But you're not, and you shouldn't, and who gives a damn what other people think anyway. So, that mentality, I think, is very destructive.
When I was 8 or 9, I started using bulletin board systems, which was the precursor to the Internet, where you'd dial into... a shared system and shared computers. I've had an email address since the late '80s, when I was 8 or 9 years old, and then I got on the Internet in '93 when it was first starting out.
My favourite outfit was this black lace dress that I found in a vintage shop in Williamsburg, New York.
I'm not vain - I just love make-up and dressing up.
I'm determined not to start dressing like I'm 45 years old now that I'm a mum.
