The actor, 59, on Hollywood, mental health and losing her religion
My earliest memory is of a dream I had, aged five. We lived in a little north London flat and I shared a room with my sister. There was a picture of Peter Rabbit on the wall, and I dreamed about him sitting on a big poo. It was quite sexual, although it only happened once, honest.
London in 1959 was austere, but my childhood was enriched by Scotland. We had family there – my grandmother, and her four naughty sisters. They all had red hair, and would do things like wee out of train windows. Each had lost a fiancé in the First World War, and their generation fascinated me.
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