Question time - Nina Wadia: Goodness, gracious me; Nina Wadia is

Sunday Mirror, Jul 15, 2001 by Tim Oglethorpe

Before we even start, tell us what you said to Cherie Blair. Oh, that story...Well, I was hosting the Asian Women Of Achievement Awards earlier this year and had to introduce Cherie. Beforehand I had asked her: "Do you mind if we have a bit of fun up there?" She said: "No, go for it." So I announced her with: "Here is Cherie Blair, barrister, mother of four and wife of the Prime Minister." As she came on stage I said: "So just how big is his dhanda?". That's the word we used in the Goodness Gracious Me sketch where two mothers are bragging about their sons' achievements and they always end it with "But how big is his dhanda?". There were about 500 people in the audience and they just fell about. Cherie, thank goodness, did too. And when she stopped laughing she said: "I do know what that means - and I'm not going to tell you!" Because it was an audience of women the atmosphere was like a giant hen party and the joke seemed appropriate. Also Cherie is very cool and up for a laugh.

You're obviously hoping millions will tune in to see you in Chambers and laugh their socks off. What makes you laugh on telly? I love Friends. I think Matthew Perry is wonderful. And I enjoyed The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air very much too.

Is it sometimes difficult to be funny to order? It isn't always easy. Perhaps the worst time was when I was filming Goodness Gracious Me. The rehearsal rooms just happened to be right beside Hammersmith Hospital in West London where my mother had died. Every day I would arrive for rehearsals and be reminded, just as I drew up in my car, about what she had gone through. It was difficult then to go and be happy and funny, for the rest of the day.

That must have been terrible. Yes. She died of kidney disease in 1999 when she was 62. She was incredibly supportive of me and my acting, but wasn't afraid to say what she thought about something. I always knew I was getting the truth from her.

Do you ever feel she might still be with you? On the morning mum died, I felt this pain in my chest, and a voice said: "Goodbye. I love you." I sat up in bed and said to my husband: "Mum's just died." Forty-five minutes later, we got a phone call from the hospital asking us to come in, but I already knew why they wanted to see us. It was the hardest day of my life, a dreadful day. But now, every time my chest tightens, I relate to mum being around. Sometimes it happens when I'm in the car and we have conversations because then I know she is there beside me. I also dreamed about her, after her death. In one of the dreams, mum would suddenly sit up in her coffin and say: "I am joking, I am not really dead. Why are you mourning me?" In another, we would be walking around an art gallery and it would be full of pictures of mum. That was bizarre because mum hated having her photograph taken. But there we were in this gallery and mum was enthusing about how nice she looked.

Your husband, composer Raiomond Mirzain, must have helped you a lot. Yes. One of the most loving images I have of him was when my mum was receiving treatment. Raiomond would sit on her bed and talk to her for hours while she underwent dialysis. It was such a caring, considerate unselfish thing to do, it made me realise just how much I loved him. I'd love to have children one day. But I took to heart what Dawn French told me when I did an episode of The Vicar Of Dibley, a couple of years ago. She said: "Don't have kids until you are established in your career." And I think she is probably right. I'm only 32 so I've got a few years yet. At the moment, Raiomond and I are more than happy with each other's company without introducing a third person into the equation.

Am I right in thinking there was a time, a few years ago, when you had virtually given up on men? I'd just broken up with a guy and decided I hated all men. I'd gone through a time when my biological clock seemed to be ticking really loudly and I was keen to settle down and it just hadn't happened because I hadn't met the right man. But then, just when I'd given up on the idea of relationships, I met Raiomond. I was in Canada, where he was living, and within five minutes of meeting him he told me he was going to marry me. We were driving to a bar to have a drink and I was talking. He suddenly said: "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but you do know you are going to marry me?" I thought he was joking, but he told me later that he knew the instant he met me that's what he wanted. I was far more sceptical, having just come out of a relationship. But he was right.

If you met in Canada presumably you were pretty quickly parted when you returned to England? We were but we communicated by email and, just six months after meeting, we married on July 4, 1998 in Canada. He moved here and we now live in Surrey. I'm just so glad I met him. He's incredibly caring.

Would your family have minded if you had fallen for a white guy? No, my family never put me under any pressure about who I should marry. In fact, when I met Raiomond I was 29 and they had given up on the idea of me marrying. My mother did try and matchmake once. She introduced me to this guy from India. I am sure he was a nice man, but he was very old fashioned in his view of women. He said to me, in this heavy Bombay accent: "It's OK, I know you are kind of a wild girl, but I will tame you." I mean! He probably thought any woman who spoke more than three words was wild. After that I never saw him again. If I had spent any longer with him I would probably have killed him. Actually, everyone assumes I am Indian, but technically I am Persian. My religion is Zoroastrian and I am a Parsi like my parents. but most of my family have married out of it. Raiomond is also a Parsi and we had a traditional Parsi wedding. I wore a deep red sari with silver-work on it and then changed into an ivory sari with gold trimming - it was beautiful.