The next series of 'Mr Selfridge' has moved on five years. It's 1914 now, and the war is brewing. Halfway through the series, some of the Selfridges staff have to go off to fight, so they get women in to do the men's jobs.
I'm a good old Yorkshire girl in that I don't like to talk about things that are on tick. As my nana always said, 'Until you've bought it, it's not yours,' so until it's signed on the dotted line, I don't like to talk about it.
As for getting married, I don't have strong feelings, really - I can take or leave it.
On Sunday, we will Skype relatives - my brother lives in America, my best friend is in Canada, and Ryan's family are all in Australia.
I don't think, as a journalist, I'd ever get a story written. I'd probably spend five years researching it, and by the time I'd finish it, no one would be interested in it anymore.
I'd be a terrible journalist. I wouldn't want to pry; I just don't have that nature.
