I get up at about 9.30. I have a croissant and a slice of toast — shared with my six dogs. I don’t eat much. The smoked Chinese tea is for me, though. One dog, Alba, was one of the 200,000 who were due to be put to sleep in Bucharest. I’ve also got a greyhound called Tootsie, who’d been left to die of hunger not far from here.

From breakfast onwards I’m in total phone contact with my foundation. I can’t go often to Paris, where the offices are, because I’ve got osteoarthritis in the hips and moving around hurts — I have to use crutches.

The Bardot foundation is fantastic — it’s the biggest success of my life. When I ended my film career in 1973, I gave my house to the foundation and I sold everything: paintings, jewels, the dresses I wore for my films, the make-up boxes, the dress I married my first husband, Roger Vadim, in.

I find it unacceptable that we consider animals as things. They are living beings, flesh and blood, just like us. Yet we take them hostage, kill them, eat them in atrocious ways. We make coats with them, use them as guinea pigs. We make them scream in pain for ages.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t eat animals, but we shouldn’t make them suffer. My first campaign was against the massacre of baby seals in Canada, and now the butchery has started again, with 1m killed every three years. We handed a petition with 200,000 signatures to the Canadian embassy in Paris. I couldn’t go because of my hips, but people like Paul McCartney and Ursula Andress signed it.

I’m never shy. I phone ministers or I write to them when I think it can help. I’m not politically correct, either — I’ve been convicted of provoking racial hatred. I got into trouble for saying it’s wrong for Muslims to slit the throats of sheep on their Eid feast day. But damn it, it’s cowardly not to say what you believe!

At noon I drive to my Noah’s ark — the farm where I care for the animals we’ve rescued. There are more dogs there, as well as geese, chickens — they’re a problem now, what with bird flu — a donkey and a pony. And at least 60 cats. There are about 100 animals, but I know them all so well, I can tell instantly if one of them is not eating or is feeling poorly. Frankly, I prefer to spend my time with animals than with people. Animals are truthful and spontaneous. If an animal doesn’t like you, he won’t come to you.

I don’t have lunch: I just nibble on a bit of chocolate or some fruit. Lunch makes me waste time. People stuff themselves too much. They’re obsessed by food, and not just the French. You know what foie gras is? It’s disgusting, it’s a sick liver — worse than cirrhosis multiplied by 10.

Last Christmas we suddenly had to take care of 150 puppies from Hungary. They’d been seized at the border between France and Italy. The puppies — boxers and Yorkshires and other breeds — were dying of dehydration. And they’d been separated from their mothers way too early. The French bureaucracy helped us, but they also stopped us doing things properly. We couldn’t have vets care for the puppies, because they hadn’t been vaccinated against rabies. It was a terrifying bloody mess. We’re still dealing with it, and already 56 have died. If I had the Hungarian breeder in front of me, I would smash his face in.

You British, though, are an example. Well done for banning foxhunting. But now Brits come to France to hunt, and the French government is not helping. Chirac used to be a great friend when he was mayor of Paris; now he’s president, he’s indifferent to my campaigns.

It’s exhausting. I’m 71, and there are moments when I feel discouraged. But I keep going. What do you think I do this for? To be a pain in the ass, so people can call me a stupid old bitch? Fighting for animals is part of me, of my body, of my heart and my soul. It will die with me. Thank God that Bernard supports me, otherwise I’d be a real wreck.

I only get one meal a day, so it has to be delicious. I have my own vegetable garden and I am a marvellously good cook. I’ve been a vegetarian for over 30 years, and I can do all sorts of things: beans with sautéed potatoes, lots of vegetables with eggs and garlic and Provençal herbs, tarte tatin… We spend our evenings by the log fire. I’ve been out so often in my life that it’s like having indigestion after eating too many chocolates — I’ve no wish to go out now.

I can’t go for a walk because of my crutches, but I try to empty my head by watching TV or reading. Often I have to wash my hair. I’ve got lots of it — it goes down to my buttocks. I love long hair; for me, it’s a feminine jewel that money just can’t buy. And mine is still the natural blonde colour it was when I was 20. I wear it in a chignon. I haven’t been to the hairdresser in 30 years. I just try to be dignified and look my best.

I love the night. It’s at night that I can write, that I can do more things for the foundation. I go to bed at about 2.30am, but I often find it hard to sleep. I don’t often think of my film career — only in as much as my name can be important in influencing people. The most important thing for me isn’t fame, or seducing men: it’s being free to dedicate myself to protecting animals. But lots of things bother me: the pictures I’ve seen of animals being maltreated, everything I would like to change.

When I’ve had a hard day, I won’t fall asleep before 4 or 5am. I just can’t empty my head of the horrors.