I used to think that technology could help education. I've probably spearheaded giving away more computer equipment to schools than anybody else on the planet. But I've had to come to the inevitable conclusion that the problem is not one that technology can hope to solve. What's wrong with education cannot be fixed with technology. No amount of technology will make a dent. It's a political problem.

Oh, most days. I can watch a political programme and think, “That sounds a really good point.” Then someone will argue the opposite and I’ll think, “Yeah, he’s got a point as well.” I am constantly sitting on a fence.

I always thought I would be a terrible driver because I’m sort of a wafty person, but it turns out I am very good at staying in between the lines. I passed my test last year.

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.

Throwing up all over the red velvet seats in the House of Lords on a school trip, aged nine.

Not knowing who my family are.

“And for you, sir?” It happens a lot.

Not standing up to bullies.

High-functioning introvert.

Nick Cave for his determination to hold a space for public discourse on the deep and difficult and mysterious elements of life.