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| Joan Bakewell |
This much I know
Joan Bakewell: I wasn’t insulted by the ‘thinking man’s crumpet’ label
The broadcaster, 83, on the swinging 60s, the 10 comandments and hanging out with Harold Pinter
My hero / Joan Bakewell by Kirsty Wark
Joanne O'Connor
Saturday 8 October 2016
The war shaped me. I’m still very thrifty – I save string and elastic bands – and I’m hugely patriotic, although not in a Ukip way. It made me realise that you can’t hang around. You’ve got to get as much satisfaction out of life as you can because you might be bombed tomorrow.
Cambridge was the life-changer. I moved from small-scale suburban life and a grammar school in Stockport where I’d been top dog to this fairytale place of rivers and trees and punting, where everyone was brighter than me. I was out of my depth and swimming like mad, but I found it thrilling.
By the time the swinging 60s arrived I was married and had a toddler, but I was working on Late Night Line-Up, so I had access to all this giddiness which was pretty exciting.
In the 60s there was a great sense that it was our turn now and we were going to set the rules. We believed in friendship, in sex, in music, in colour, and we believed in the absence of hypocrisy.
I wasn’t insulted by the ‘thinking man’s crumpet’ label. The feminists felt that I’d sold out by not being outraged. They wanted me to denounce Frank Muir [who coined the phrase], but it would have been like hitting a jelly. He’s such a sweetheart, he would have dissolved in shame.
To be with Harold Pinter was to enjoy yourself. He was very witty, he was a great raconteur and he knew a great deal of poetry off by heart and would recite it. We remained friends throughout his life and he would occasionally say, “We did have fun, didn’t we Joan?” And yes we did.
I’ve never had any regrets, because they just lumber you with guilt. There are lots of things that I’m sad about, but I think it’s possible to forgive yourself for mistakes you’ve made. Life’s for living, not for regretting.
I agree with most of the 10 commandments, but I don’t believe in the supernatural.
Jeremy Vine and I once wrote a sitcom about the church, but it never got made because Richard Curtis got there before us with The Vicar of Dibley.
Every time you see a picture of the House of Lords we’re always wearing those damn robes with the ermine collars, but we only wear them once a year. You have to hire them from a special shop. One time they ran out so I got one from a theatrical costumiers. Nobody knew it was a fake.
I don’t want my life to come to an end. I want to make the most of it and I want to have as much of it as possible. That’s why I feel so thankful to still be working. It’s the thing I recommend to people as they get older. Have a project. Don’t spend your time looking back.
I’ve always liked to be causing a bit of a stir. I like making people question their own values. I quite like having mine shaken up, too.
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