Cait's questionnaire

I love questionnaires. I am one of those peculiar (probably sad) people who will fill in pretty well anything. Multiple choice questions, ticking boxes, giving opinions – a totally underrated sport. Possibly they’re so appealing because they give me the feeling that I’m doing something important or necessary (while patently Not Working). Normally I am pretty honest although, every so often I have the urge (and give in to it) to answer with brazen-faced lies. Presumably the people who send out these things allow for this? Anyone in marketing? Would love to know what the ‘puck it’ ratio is amongst people who fill in these things. What percentage of answers do you wipe out as being unrepresentative – or is it just me that can’t resist the odd untruth?

Usually I adopt a persona – the rich, lazy man; the self-obsessed businesswoman; the harried mother of six. I think it started out of embarrassment at questions like income and number of homes (being a rabid people pleaser I hated to disappoint the upmarket magazines and so added a few noughts and a couple of holiday properties to reassure them their readers were indeed all top-notch).
Have been musing about this today as Cait (a long time back, this has been pending for months) has asked five questions and I am aware that this is one occasion on which I must not fib. Cait is one of those people (even though we have never met in person) that I could no more lie to than I could dance naked on YouTube.

So, here we have it. Honest answers. Honestly.

If you had your life to live over again, what, if anything, would you do differently?
Very very little. I count myself as incredibly lucky. I had an absolute ball at university (Manchester) – learned very little about English Literature (though a surprising amount about Early English) but could have taken a First in partying. I then lived a wild and reckless life in London in my twenties, being paid to go to gigs and films, interview rock stars and generally be Exceedingly Bad. Just as I was getting scared that I’d never find Someone to Love I met Adrian (at a Paul McKenna video promo at a hotel on Park Lane) and we discovered that we’d both burnt out the bright lights and wanted to move. Relocated to Somerset, got married, had James. I wanted to be a journalist and I did it. Wanted to write books – and have totted up over twenty. Fancied being on TV and did that too. Wanted the big rectory – had that. Craved the Good Life on a farm – did that. So really I have absolutely no complaints. At certain times I do wonder how it would have been to have had a daughter or another son but then I figure I’m so darn lucky to have one gorgeous child that I need to shut up. No, no regrets.

Who, or what has been the greatest influence on your life?

The Pelican Centre. A therapy and retreat centre on the Somerset Levels (now sadly no more). It was where I learned about Jung, practiced art therapy, learned to bake bread and discovered the healing powers of nature and silence. It taught me to look at dreams, to listen for the small voice of the subconscious, to celebrate mythology. It was a place where, above all, I could be truly and wholly myself. It saved my soul. I miss it like fury and simply can’t find anywhere to take its place which is a huge sadness. If anyone knows of a fabulous (and reasonable) place that does art therapy please let me know.

What is your greatest accomplishment?

My son. So stunningly gorgeous, smart, sensitive yet rugged – I have no idea how I created someone so darn fabulous. Or someone that is good at maths and sport. One of life’s deep and wonderful mysteries.

If you could have dinner with someone famous who would it be?
Jung. I’d bore him rigid with my dreams, asking for interpretations.

List your passions.
My family. Books. Early music. Wild places. Old houses. Egypt. India. Greece. Ireland. Ghost stories. Art therapy. Mythology. Ancient gods and goddesses. Shoes. Hearty hand-thrown pots. Labyrinths. Food, wine and rhubarb bellinis.


Phew. That’s that done.