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It was always my intention that The Frieze should be housed in a room which would provide a suitable architectural frame for it.

Obviously I faced the possibility of not returning when first I considered going. Once faced and settled there really wasn't any good reason to refer to it.

The decision to write full-time meant I couldn't afford to buy a house. A friend kindly offered me the use of his apartment in a thirty-six-story building full of newlywed couples in the southern area of Jakarta. I didn't like my working space at first, but the scenery and everything going on outside have worked their magic on me.

They told me that the hotels had maybe two rooms set up for people with disabilities, but if they got there too late, and didn't get one of these rooms, they couldn't take a shower. The room wasn't hooked up for them, or maybe the sink was too high.

I was trying to spend it as quickly as possible. Because I'm so lazy, all that money created a block. I was flying around the world, staying at fancy hotels, having fun and trying to get rid of it as quickly as possible, so I could get on with some more work.

I really have paid my dues. When I get to stay in fancy hotel suites these days, I remind myself of that.

The worst hotels are any with a bad bed. I stayed in a hotel where they left cards telling me my enjoyment was of paramount importance. I should have written, 'Nice rooms, crap beds.'

When I was deciding whether or not to take the job at Celine, I didn't really look at the history of the house. I had other offers to come back, but they weren't right, or they wouldn't let me stay in London, which was non-negotiable.

The house I grew up in was a tall Victorian town house in Bristol. There were very big rooms, which were under-furnished and always cold.