I was on the train yesterday and as I was alone I could indulge in a bit of eavesdropping on other people’s conversations – a favourite pastime of mine (perhaps because I am a poor conversationalist myself!).

There were two young lads nearby discussing cars. One of them, clearly taking a sensible enough stance, was telling his friend about his car-purchasing plans for the future. He would start with a Corsa, or similar model, and would stick with that until later in life he might have saved up enough to buy a Porsche. The other lad, a more reckless and flighty type, stated his desire to buy an Audi TT because as he put it ‘they turn me on’ and ‘no, they really turn me on’. I think he has a problem there but then I have never understood the glamour of the car - I cannot discern any sexual association myself - though of course if he does get himself a nice little Audi he can get inside her any hour of the day and have a good time. However, to me it is a functional and outrageously expensive piece of equipment whose only purpose is to transport A from B to C. Although I lie there, it is not functional to me since I am not licensed to drive the things. I used to just say ‘I can’t drive’ when people asked but I try now to say that I don’t, not that I can’t because it isn’t true, I can – I just haven’t passed the test yet. Anyway when I have been in the driving seat I am more thrilled by the movement than the metal box. But men are funny that way about cars sometimes.

As they are about other things. I have a male friend who will persist in the fantasy that I have lesbian tendencies. Presumably so that we can share some male-bonding ritual of eyeing up anything in a skirt. Unfortunately the only thing I would be likely to fancy in a skirt would be a strapping Scot in a kilt, with good strong thighs and hopefully a look of Harrison Ford about the face. It is tempting sometimes to indulge him in his delusion but I don’t think I could pull it off, actress or not! My sisters and I were discussing one day what manner of man appeals, sexually that is. And while we were all three of us mindful of the aesthetic qualities of the likes of the Deppster and Keanu we would all prefer to take something more rugged and masculine into the fantasy boudoir. The older two with Harrison Ford in mind and the younger with Tom Selleck (but only in his Magnum incarnation) – which then led to a lengthy session on the internet looking for a clip of Magnum PI, in underdressed mode, which once found enabled us to concede her point. We can but dream!

Sadly I think middle-age must settling in as in truth I would turn down an afternoon with a glistening, half-naked Indiana, with or without the Audi TT, in favour of a blanket in long soft grass in the middle of summer, a large box of chocolates, a good book, perfect peace, and endless sunshine. However, if a large, rippling Celt in a kilt hove into view of the blanket I would of course budge up a bit……