I remember one day my son, our Robert, was looking at me on the settee and looking at me on the television, and then all of a sudden he said: 'Why don't you bring that pretty mummy home with you?' And I thought: 'Oh dear, I'm going to have to dress up at home now as well!'
I'm a 'never say never' girl. Frank Sinatra retired four times. He kept coming back. But there are people in our business who want to die on stage. Literally. I don't want to do that.
There's a whole generation out there who don't know that I was a pop singer in the early days.
When I was put up in posh hotels, I thought it was wonderful.
On my gravestone, I want 'Here lies the singer,' not 'Here lies the T.V. presenter'.
I've had days when I go in my bedroom for 24 hours at a time. I call them my Cilla Black days, and they're literally black days. It's like the old Boomtown Rats song 'I Don't Like Mondays.' You just want to shut the whole day down.
But reality television is here to stay.
I'm a Roman Catholic. Or was. I was brought up that way and used to say my prayers every night, but I don't pray to God any more. I might use the usual phrases I picked up from my parents, 'Oh, if God spares me next year...' or 'Please God...' but they're only phrases.
I'm quite subdued, believe it or not. I switch it on for the camera.