On Wednesday, May 23, 1979, we premiered Can You Hear Me At The Back? at the Piccadilly Theatre. Everyone knows what a big hit that comedy was. Approximately one year later I was working on something totally different: Tenko.

I think I accepted the part of Rose in Tenko because it was a true story. And true stories that are part of history have always interested me.

The story is set in Malaysia during World War II. Foreign families living in Singapore were leading a very privileged life, far from the war going on in Europe and it seemed as if nothing could ever happen to disturb them where they were.

Then came the fated day of the Japanese invasion of Singapore. Nobody knows exactly why, perhaps the Europeans thought they could defend the city with no problems, or maybe they thought there just wasn't much danger. At any rate, although in the beginning they talked about evacuating the women and children, either they didn't do it quickly enough, or they didn't do it efficiently, because when the Japanese invaded it was already too late.

The Japanese army separated the families and put almost all the Europeans (who were mostly English and Dutch) in concentration camps. Many of them did not survive the war. But others lived to tell about it.

The BBC production was a ten-episode series, narrating the adventures of 200 women in a concentration camp in 1942. The story focuses on the lives of ten of the women, and Rose, the woman I played, was one of them.

It was incredible to see how Rose, an upper-class woman whose idea of tragedy is a laddered stocking, managed to get things together in the concentration camp.

She was accustomed to ordering servants around and not obeying orders from others. Naturally, it took a while for her to adjust to her new surroundings, and she had to confront a whole series of situations that were absolutely unfathomable for her.

It was very exciting and moving to portray Rose. I began to do some research of my own into the lives of women who were kept in camps. I discovered that the minimum amount of weight that anyone lost in those camps was 20 pounds. So I said to myself: 'Cool, I'm going to lose 20 pounds to do this...'

And I immediately began to eat cream cakes by the dozen.

People looked at me strangely and said, "Stephanie, sorry, but we just don't understand you. You're going to work in a prison camp, and you're eating cream cakes, mashed potatoes and rice puddings!"

And I answered: "Well, the first episode is when we're in Singapore, so I'm putting on eight pounds of pure fat. These eight pounds when I go on my diet... Zap, they'll disappear just like that!"

So I gained my eight pounds. I did the first scenes and, quite right, I was a little plump by then. Then I went on my diet. We had to do six weeks of exteriors, and during that time I lost 20 pounds. And I also became very nearly anorexic.

So Steph Cole, who plays Beatrice, the doctor, told me; "From now on you will start eating... in public!" Because things really were getting a bit out of control. I wasn't really anorexic - it was just dedication gone silly.

The truth is, when I see a snapshot from the series, I realize how awful I really looked. One day James Fox walked up to me at the BBC, just as I was going on the Tenko set, and said; "I think your make-up is wonderful."

I said: "Thank you, I'm not wearing a bloody thing." I wasn't and would you believe it everyone was congratulating me on how awful I looked!"

But I didn't mind millions of viewers seeing me so unglamorous because I've got no real pride in my appearance. I couldn't care less if I'm wearing gorgeous dresses like Connie or Sable, or rags like Rose. The only thing I really care about is that people believe in my character.

The most special thing about making Tenko was the incredible women with whom I worked during those months. It came at a time in my life when I was feeling insecure, with two little kids, and my marriage gone. And, suddenly, there was this time with wonderful women.

You know what happens when two women get together. Well, there were ten of us. It was wonderful. Between us, we knew it all. From where to find a good dry cleaners for fur coats, to anything we needed or wanted. We were a real support group.

During the time we were shooting the series (more than two years) and on various different locations including London, Singapore and Dorset - four of us sealed a friendship which is still strong today. My Tenko friends are Louise Jameson, Veronica Roberts and Stephanie Cole.

I have just received a letter from Louise, and I spoke to Veronica and Steph just a few days ago on the telephone. That shows you clearly what a deep friendship we have carried on over the years.

For a change from working with so many women, I agreed to a part in the play Terra Nova. We opened in the Palace Theatre at the end of January 1982. And it certainly was a change - me and six men.

A year later, when we finally finished shooting all of Tenko, I set off on a tour with the Royal Shakespeare Company through Asia. It was a fascinating way to see Pakistan, Nepal, and so many charming places. And everyone welcomed us with such incredible hospitality.

We were only doing one play on the tour: Twelfth Night. We did the same show night after night in all the different cities on the tour, and it was a truly unforgettable experience.

When I returned from Asia, I was offered a new play, Venice Preserved, and I accepted. Thanks to that wonderful play by Thomas Ottaway I met Martyn Stanbridge, and it was the start of a marvellous friendship.

Martyn became very important for me over the next few months...

I had no way of knowing it at the time, but my entire life was leading up to the point at which things would all fall into their proper place. One year before ever hearing anything about Dynasty, everything was already falling into place for me to leave my life in London and fly to California.

But a lot was to take place in my life before that change. And I was headed toward a new starting point, a turning point. From that time on I would have to start everything over again.

But let's go back a bit here. In 1984 I was working with the National Theatre in Venice Preserved. Being a "single mum", and with the odd hours and schedule you work in theatre, it was absolutely impossible for me to take care of my daughters properly.

So we finally hired a nanny. Actually, we had many nannies over the years. Both the girls and I hated the idea of a stranger living in the house, but it was the only solution I could come up with so that the kids would get to bed on time, do their homework, and all the normal things.

One night I set off for theatre as usual. Curiously enough, that night I didn't wear any jewellery. I always wear at least one piece, even if I'm on stage - such as a ring, or something of sentimental value. But that night, for the first time in my life, I left all my jewellery at home.

I walked out of the house, closed the door, and went to the theatre. And while I was nonchalantly doing my performance for the night, some thieves entered the house and took all my jewellery, absolutely everything, I mean they really cleaned me out! The nanny, who was obviously there too, was asleep upstairs. Nobody woke up. And I'm glad they didn't. I hate to think what could have happened if one of the girls had woken up.