The first house Ronnie and I bought together after living in America for 10 years was at 7 Mostyn Road, in Wimbledon. We moved there in 1986 and stayed five years. I've got great memories, though sad things happened as well. We paid £300,000 for it. It was Victorian, detached, on three floors, with six bedrooms. The previous owners had done it up beautifully - it had original fireplaces and a lovely conservatory. They also had lots of artnouveau. I thought it was great.
It had high hedges at the front and a double garage at the back, with a little flat over the top. It even had an outside pool. We'd heat it up, so steam hovered on top. It looked quite mystical.
I love doing up houses. Our bedroom was very romantic, with long muslin curtains that blew in the breeze, and I was so proud of our lounge, which was pale pink, with nice pieces of art. I love art nouveau and art deco. We're great collectors.
After I met Ronnie in 1977, we first moved to Los Angeles, then we had a big old brownstone in New York. I was the one who wanted to come back. We went out for dinner on Times Square one night with a girlfriend of mine; she went to the bathroom and was gone ages. Suddenly, she came falling through the door, covered in blood - she had been mugged in the toilet. I thought: "This isn't the place to bring up my children."
I was calling my mother every day, and Ronnie's son, Jesse, from his first marriage, was in England. So we said: "Everybody we love is in England - let's go home." For the first few weeks in Wimbledon, we slept on mattresses on the floor while our furniture was shipped. But it was great.
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We had loads of parties there. We had Terence Trent D'Arby over; Jimmy White practically lived there; Alex Higgins wouldn't leave. We had great bonfire nights - still do. Our daughter, Leah, and I always make a guy. Bobby Womack had never been to a fireworks night, and was petrified. We didn't see a lot of the other Stones, but Keith [Richards] stayed. He was the one person in America we didn't want to leave. I love Keith: he's like a bullying big brother, and cracks me up. I used to boast that I could drink any man under the table, and I used to do cocaine and smoke joints. But I'd settled down by this time, being a mum, so it was a weekend thing, after the children had gone to bed.
Ronnie turned the garage into a recording and art studio: he really got into his painting there, and made an album. He was always in there. That's why we've been together so long! In 1989, I was wrongly diagnosed with Crohn's disease. I went with the Stones on tour to Japan, and felt so rough that I couldn't wait to get home. I didn't want to be on steroids for the rest of my life - my skin was terrible and my body bloated. Then I found a wonderful herbalist who told me about organic food. By detoxing my system, we found what was really wrong: I had a perforated appendix. They whipped that out and I've not looked back.
I cleaned myself up and went from party girl to pure girl. I didn't mind drink, but I wouldn't have drugs in the house. I remember catching Peter Cook with Ronnie, having a line, and shouting at him to get out. I thought I could get Ronnie to change, but you only change when you want to. I don't drink often now. At Kate Moss's birthday party recently, I had three mojitos and I was rocking.
I started a little organic vegetable garden. Initially, I was a bit drastic, and the kids hated it. In fact, Ronnie barred me from using the o-word for a while. Then I started to be clever. I would make spaghetti bolognese and not tell anybody that it was organic. That way, they ate it. Everything at home now is totally organic, except the HP sauce. Ronnie insists on having that.
My biggest memory of Wimbledon, though, is my dad dying there in 1990, from a heart attack. I'd just taken the kids to school, and he was having a cup of tea with Ronnie and Jimmy White. They'd been up all night. He was laughing and laughing - then, just like that, he was gone. I was driving back from his funeral, at night, in the pouring rain, when the car spun into the fence down the middle of the motorway. Ronnie got out, another car hit ours, and Ronnie jumped in the air. He broke both ankles. He had to wear huge black lace-up shoes, and he looked like Frankenstein [sic]. It was hysterical. For six weeks, he was a nightmare. All I could hear was: "Jo-o-o!"
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It was time to move on. We bought a lovely Georgian house on Richmond Green, and I think we got £550,000 for the Wimbledon place. I went past it not long ago. The owners have put an extension on. I love looking in people's houses. My father was an architectural model-maker, so I think it stems from that.
Naturally, Jo Wood's book on how to adopt an organic lifestyle, is out now (Pan Macmillan £9.99)