When our children were born.

At my wedding in Ravello, surrounded by friends and relatives.

Can't quantify – I am often happy.

I’m pretty happy right now, although the plague is a problem. I got the virus early, and was unwell for two and a half weeks. I was spared the worst symptoms; I realise more strongly every day that I’m one of the very lucky ones.

My mother. She’s 85 and rather than diminishing with age, she keeps surprising and growing more marvelous. She finds fun when most are jaded, wonder when most are cynical, and is curious when most are bored. She gave me life and continues to show me how to live it daily. And I know that everyone who meets her thinks the same.

The loss of anything, be it a loved one or a faculty—my sight, hearing, or mind.

At the right time, and like my father—utterly without fear or pain, at home, with all whom I love. It was his last lesson as a parent to me.

My distractibility, diminishing memory, and capacity for sustained concentration. My English master once said I had the brain of a butterfly. I feel that 40 years later, I’ve evolved into Dory from Finding Nemo.

In my bed, a hot-water bottle on my tummy, the windows are open, reading a book that I’m already into, chocolate at hand, all with the knowledge that everyone I love and know is happy.