An eye surgeon. I had an operation on my cornea when I was little, and remember being deeply enamoured with the team who looked after me. Subsequently, I was very disappointed to learn that a degree of scientific aptitude was required for the job, which ruled me out.

I really had no idea whatsoever. I feel that my life developed as I went along. I was never one of those people who, at an early age, had picked an objective and worked steadily towards it. All I knew was that I wanted to get involved in adventurous activity. I didn’t have any specific type of activity in mind, but I wanted to do things that were exciting and adventurous. I had a fairly diffused feeling as to what precisely it should be.

An astronaut, an archaeologist, an actor, and a musician.

I had no idea. When I was a week away from leaving school, a teacher said, “We’ve been talking in the staffroom and we all think you should be an actor.” I thought, “That’s exactly what I want.” The rest is history.

My piano, a boudoir grand. I’ve played since I was six.

I wish I could say sorry to my husband, because I couldn’t save him from his dementia.

One of my favourite songs is Being Alive, from Company by Stephen Sondheim, but it would hardly be appropriate.

In the minutes, hours, days and weeks after having my children. I was 42 and 45. There’s nothing like new life.

Not having four children.

I spent the earlier part of my life being late for everything, so there was a joke that my tombstone would read The Very Late Patricia Hodge.