An emergency landing in a snow storm in Philadelphia.

In 1989, in Cuba, about to board a plane for Milan, where I was going to school for a year. The visa didn’t arrive in time, so I couldn’t board. The plane crashed and people died.

A blood clot in my artery when I was 23.

It is a very rare affliction. A GP would expect to meet it once in a career and this form of brain cancer is unpredictable and dangerous. Usually, this tumour might give you only a two-year span since its discovery. I have had two operations and one course of radiotherapy and now three chemotherapies (one currently starting). My death is, in a sense, imminent. I say to myself: I am dying. Something in my head is hurrying to kill me.

Surviving the music industry. I think it’s been responsible for killing a lot of musicians. Lots of us have mental health issues, and drink and drug problems, and the industry doesn’t really care.

British summers give me a really happy feeling. My bedroom at our family home in Harrow looks out on to our garden and a cricket field, and you just know when it’s the first day of summer.

My mum, because she’s been a nurse for over 40 years. She works in a hospice, and there’s no bullshit with her.

Everyone I ever met in 2007, because I was definitely about two hours late.

That all the cliches about people in the music industry are true.