I think it’s that early training, if anything, in vaudeville for me that gave me any kind of gumption. Touring endlessly around England, doing the second show on a Saturday night in places like Glasgow or Newcastle or Liverpool or Swansea or Cardiff, that’s pretty dicey. I was very, very young. There were days when they would have to turn all the house lights on in the theater because people were hurling beer bottles and things like that. And, there was this determination to get through. My mum was terrific. She would say, “Don’t you dare complain. Don’t you dare say you can’t sing in cigarette smoke,” because in those days you could see it spiraling down the great arcs on to the spotlights on to the stage. Nothing but cigarette smoke in those days. And she would say, “Don’t you dare get a swollen head,” accompanied by great love sometimes. But, all the good stuff that one needs, “Get up and do it. What are you complaining about? You’re so much luckier than most other people,” just absolutely true.