Eminent Hobbies: You'll never guess what I like to get up to in my spare time...

Hilary Spurling, Biographer

RATTING

My father told me this story long ago. He died nearly 30 years ago and I missed him dreadfully, so when Who's Who asked me what my recreations were, I just put it in as a joke for him. It stands for all the un-PC things that one does. The story that my father loved was when Edward VII saw Lord Harris in a brown bowler hat and tweeds in the Royal Enclosure at Ascot and said: "Morning Harris, going ratting?" Whenever we did anything wrong, or he did, it was always, "Morning Harris, going ratting?" Since most of my life has been spent not doing things people expect me to do, "ratting" seemed to sum that all up. It stands for all the frightful things you have to do in order to write a biography that seem so trivial, so silly, so laughable. You can hardly bear to tell people the dreadful drawers you have to open. It's like being a detective, and a lot of what a detective does is pretty shoddy.

Brian Aldiss, Writer and Critic

TRANCES

I have a theory that many creative people have melancholia. I think possibly it's rather a characteristic of the English, but certainly our writers - with their rather visionary element - have a form of melancholia - Mary Shelley, William Blake, HG Wells, George Orwell. It's not an impediment to creativity; it rather prompts it. One levers oneself out of the torpor of melancholy by being active and creative and thinking a great deal. I suppose that I have a touch of melancholia myself. For instance, at one time I had a great longing to be on the planet Pluto, far away from everything, where the sun is just a twinkling pinhead in the distant. Recently I found myself wondering how wonderful it would be to be on Ganymede [pictured], which is one of the moons of Jupiter. Why should these cold and dark places attract me? I suppose I seem to have an affinity for that sort of thing. Thinking of being there would be a trance state. It's more like a reverie, actually, but I thought the word trance sounded more fun.

Dawn Airey, Managing Director, Sky Networks

COLLECTING ANTIQUE MAPS

My grandfather and my dad were both stamp collectors. I got collecting maps because I used to go to a lot of auctions with my dad as a kid and then as a teenager. There were a lot of maps that were sold at the same time, which I took a healthy interest in. Occasionally, I was allowed one as long as I didn't tell my mum how much he had spent on a stamp. The thing that really turns me on about maps is that they are cultural, economic and political reflections of the time in which they were made. They are a part of history. I've got around 100. They're English because I was particularly interested in English history. Some of the earliest ones are from the 14th century. My collection has probably proved to be a very astute investment, not that I would ever want to sell any. You can pay millions of pounds for maps - not that I have. The great thing about them is that you can come in at any price range. Proper map collectors would have a fit, but I do keep quite a lot on display. They are beautiful things.

Ralph Steadman, Artist

SHEEP HUSBANDRY

I've always loved sheep - I think they're gorgeous creatures. They're placid and I look on their stupidity as a wisdom. I have a two-and-a-half-acre paddock with apple trees at the back here in Maidstone, which is where my sheep were because they kept the grass down. I had about half a dozen. One of my sheep I called Sadie after my daughter, and another I called Xeno after the Sophist philosopher. He's in my book Between the Eyes. I used to consult Xeno - look into his big round eyes and ask him to impart some wisdom about the future. Consult him as you would an oracle. He just looked at me full of puzzlement. He died of old age, about 12 years old. It upset me very much at the time. I was young enough then to think about daft ideas like that. They were like pets. I'd go out into the orchard and Xeno would run towards me like a dog. I also made a harness for him and took photos of him being a lawnmower. So we had some fun with them. They were very lucky sheep.

Edna O'Brien, Author

MEDITATING

What drew me to meditation is what I think is very, very valuable and deep - that it stops - or helps to stop - the thoughts rattling on and on. We think billions of thoughts every day, apparently, and to focus briefly or lengthily on that non-thought or nothing is terribly hard. My device for doing it is breathing. One of my great friends is Dr Andrew Weil, who is a guru. When I first met him he was very prescient: he said I don't think you breathe very well, and I said I don't - to tell you the truth I'm not sure I live very well. He sent me one of his breathing tapes. Breathing is one of the steps towards meditation. To be aware of the breathing, and to watch it as well as hear it - just to watch one's breathing going in and out, is a very good device. For life - and, of course, for work - meditation directs one or steers one into the way of concentration. I love concentration, I love it in people; I love it in text. I love things that are very deep and very concentrated and meditation is part of that.

Bel Mooney, Writer and Broadcaster

RIDING PILLION ON A HARLEY-DAVIDSON

Years ago I wrote an article about getting older and coming to terms with all the things you will never do. In it I said that I would never ride pillion on a Harley across the States. Then I thought "why not?" Riding pillion is also a secret little joke against myself, because it's my public acknowledgement that I never managed to pass my test. I wanted very much to ride myself, but I fell off, got the bruises, lost my nerve and my life changed because my marriage broke up and I didn't want to do it any more. But I didn't lose my love for riding. Biker culture absolutely fascinates me. I think it's enormous fun, I love riding around. On the back of my boyfriend's bike I've done thousands and thousands of miles in all weathers. I get all the thrills and the danger without actually piloting the damn thing. I love the sense of being on the edge in all sorts of ways. When you are dressed in your leather and you are a biker you become a different person and riding along in the open air you smell things and see the countryside in a different way. It's just as well that I don't ride because I'm always daydreaming and looking around. I would probably be dead by now. Riding pillion on a Harley makes you feel cool. I'm 59 and I'm cool.

David Bellamy, Botanist, Writer and Broadcaster

BALLET

When I was very young, I used to listen to the Blue Door Theatre on Children's Hour, which was the only thing we had in those days. I think my interest in the ballet developed from there. I was brought up in a very strict Baptist family and to talk about it would not have gone down well. I dreamt that I would one day dance in the ballet, and be a lead, but it never came about because I grew very large very rapidly. I went to as much ballet as I possibly could. It was three and sixpence in those days to watch Margot Fonteyn dance. I've had an interest ever since. When I was working with the BBC I wanted to do a television series called "Bellamy On The Ballet", following two youngsters through their first three years of ballet classes. But the BBC said no. I'm still a patron of West Midlands Youth Ballet. I try to collect money on their behalf and I wrote a ballet for them for their 10th anniversary. I blew a certain amount of money getting Sir Malcolm Williamson, who was the Master of the Queen's Music, to write the music. It's been performed five times since then and the music was recorded by the BBC.

Melanie Philips, Commentator

LEARNING TO SWIM

This is the first time I've been in Who's Who, so when I put down my recreations this was uppermost in my mind. I've been taking lessons for a few months now. I had a lifelong fear of water and I decided that at my grand old age it was about time I addressed these phobias and had some fun. I can't trace my phobia back to a particular incident, I just never got round to learning to swim properly. I always swam very badly with my head out of the water, which was pathetic and ludicrous. So I went to a brilliant swimming teacher who specialises in hopeless cases like me. I have lessons one-to-one in a lane on my own. You're taught how the body floats in water, to learn to trust it. I'm still quite nervous about being out of my depth, but I am swimming out of my depth. I've got a long way to go - there are lots of strokes still to learn. I find it utterly liberating to swim under water. It's great fun and a proper recreation. It does feel like an achievement, but it's a pretty pathetic one since it's what every small child of five years can do. I'm fine in hotel swimming pools. I haven't got to the sea yet. That's the next step.