[On meeting the editor of The Sunday Times magazine at a dinner party in 1969.] I told him about being a young wife: screwing all night, then going to work, shopping, doing the housework, doing one's husband's dinner, then screwing all night again.

[On the absence of condoms in her sex scenes.] I can't do that. When do you stop to put it on? They're awful. You see, because I never had babies [her two children are adopted], I never had to worry about all that. Actually, that's not true. I did, because I didn't know [that she couldn't have children]. I wish I had known. God, I'd have had fun. But you were absolutely terrified of getting pregnant. I was too early for the pill. I had a dutch cap. They were terrible. It used to fly across the room. I left it behind when I went on honeymoon. My mother had to send it on. I was never very organised.

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[On her novels] I know they are frivolous imperfect But people love them — you should see the letters I get! Maybe one day I will write something more serious but I don’t want to come across like a ghastly actor who wants to play Hamlet. Basically my aim in life is to add to the sum of human happiness My dear is that pompous hmmm? Darling am I being boring?

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This woke thing is awful. Have you ever been woked? You put a hand on somebody's shoulder and you're assaulting them. In the old days if someone was awful to you you'd tell them to eff off and that would be that. Still, I had some horrors in my time.

I saw this bright orange flash and thought this is it, my number has come up. There was a man above me who was talking about his wife, saying "I love you, Ellen, I love you".
The train caved over and there was this terrific crash. It was only after we climbed out that we realised the full magnitude of what had happened - there were bodies, trains turned over, massive smoke and flames. I think all you think about at the time is "get me out of here". I was very lucky really - my carriage was the last but one on the train and although it turned over, people did not seem too bad.

There's hard porn, soft porn and Jilly Cooper. Not that Mrs Cooper's latest little nonsense would get any Portnoy award, but I do worry about the influence on young minds of this peculiar combination of romantic fantasy and permissiveness (Barbara Cartland without the iron knickers). Fired by such goings-on as are chronicled in Octavia, heaven knows what the precociously pubescent will get up to.