The broadcaster, 89, on wishing to write one perfect poem, having a high old time, failing to make the world a better place and missing wearing high heels
I’m going to be 90 this year and, looking back, I was always happiest when I’d fallen in love. Falling in love is a very expressive thing. And I’ve done it once or twice. Of course, the high point of all this carry-on was in the 1950s and 60s, when I was a student and then I was in London, having a high old time. I did enjoy the 1960s very much.
I had a childhood that was mixed. My parents were quite young and delighted to have a child. And I remember them being very full of laughter and teases. But as I got older, things got more difficult because my mother, who was very brilliant as a young schoolgirl, had had to leave school to earn some money. When she saw me getting on in life a bit, passing exams and going to Cambridge, she began to think, “I could have done that.” And she certainly could. So there was a certain melancholy about her, which made life rather difficult. And her depression infected us quite a lot.
