I left the army and got a job with Unilever in Northern Ireland. They were very strict and you had to have a hat, and when you went into a shop you had to raise your hat to the shopkeeper and then sell your wares. I was selling margarine.

There was a period when I did four or five terrible films. My agent said: “Don’t do them.” But it was my month’s rent for a day’s work. One time, my green room was a lorry. It started snowing and it was just me and a plastic chair in the back of an open lorry. It was pretty grim.

Working in a very busy bar in the West End when I was trying to pay my way through drama school. I had to dance in a cage in a vest and cycling shorts to Venus by Bananarama, Greased Lightnin’ and Y.M.C.A. every night. It was excruciating.

For two weeks I worked behind the players’ bar at Bolton Wanderers football club – footballers don’t tip.

Managing to stay on The One Show for over a decade. In an industry that is so fickle, I am astounded I am still there.

As a good friend, somebody people could rely on, somebody who liked a bit of a laugh, and as a good mother.

An ex-boyfriend who, looking back, I lost patience with. Now we know more about mental health, I think that was at the root of it; I am sorry I didn’t understand it at the time.

A Burberry mac: I am not a handbag or shoe person, but I do like a nice coat.