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I always knew mum loved me - tough, look-after-yourself love, as if she knew she wouldn't always be there.

My mother taught me how to love. My mom is the most loving person I know.

When I asked my mother why crowds shouted my name and said 'We love you,' she would dust it off by saying, 'Your work makes them happy.' She never let it go to my head.

I knew that I was loved. And that's such an important thing. And, of course, at such an early age, you take it for granted. Of course your parents love you. Of course Mrs. Hubert across the street loves you and your godmother loves you and your grandparents love you.

I love my parents in the way most children would: for having been there at every point in my youth and childhood, ready to pick me up when I fell and support me when I stumbled.

Across the board, from my mother to my father to my aunts and uncles, everybody has always given me a lot of love.

I love my mother. I reach out to my mother.

I always loved being in London and being near my parents.

I enjoyed school - although I ran away on the first day. I'd reminded the teacher that it was nearly time for 'Watch With Mother' on TV.

I used to teach at a private school, and the parents thought I loved their children. I did not love their children! I liked them well enough, but I was always delighted to see them go off for summer vacation.