When I now think of how the uncertainty about my own future, and the proximity of death, threw me into torment, careering wildly between hope and despair, I look back in wonder at how little I thought about the effect I had on my own patients after I had spoken to them. I did worry that if my tone of voice was too pessimistic the poor patient might spend what little time they had left feeling deeply depressed, simply waiting to die. So I tried to find a balance between telling them the truth and not depriving them of hope. After a patient died, I only occasionally heard back from the family, so I had little way of knowing whether the way I had spoken to them was appropriate or not.

I woke up this morning thinking maybe I don’t want to be an actor any more, then I had breakfast and I thought: actually, no, I really like being an actor.

Retirement – I thought it was a bad idea.

Cancel culture: getting stuck on the discourse rather than looking at the system.

Safety or alarm, I can never decide which.

Not joining the circus.

I can always see two points of view, which makes it hard to have a row.

Small, determined, lucky.

Life’s too short to take offence.

Did I behave in the right way?