Sandi Toksvig

I don't think secrets are a good thing. I think they are a cancer of the soul. So I decided to come out.

I love 'Teach Yourself' books. I bought an old weaving loom and had no time for classes, but one 'Teach Yourself' later, and my bobbin is flying.

Food is an international language, an expression of love.

I'd love to be a joiner or a wood turner.

My ambition is to stop showing off. I'd love to be a tweedy academic. I'd be happy living in a croft. I like making jam. So why am I a semi-public figure?

I'd love to retire in terms of not having to go to work anymore and earn a living.

One of my life's watchwords is 'hyggelig.' It's an untranslatable Danish term for getting together with friends and family and sitting around in a cosy atmosphere with nice food and wine and candles.

I always wanted to get married. I was very drawn to the idea of a partner with whom you went through life, a mate who was always in your corner.

No matter how far I travel from Denmark, I still miss the food, so ScandiKitchen in Great Titchfield Street in central London is an essential part of my life.

Sitting on a plastic chair at night listening to the sea lapping below while sipping a cold beer is about as good as life gets.

With my daughters, it didn't matter how much it was not my thing, we went through two truly horrible pink phases. I bought an awful lot of Barbie rubbish, and it was a great day when I was allowed to send Barbie's house to the skip. That was one of the best days of my life.

When I came out in September 1994, I was, as far as I know, the only out lesbian in British public life.