The very first day that I was filming Top Gear, for which I was so unqualified because I’d only ever driven a Fiat Uno. I got into a DB7 Vantage Volante outside the Aston Martin factory, put my foot on the accelerator and bunny-hopped across the gravel because I’d forgotten to take the handbrake off.

Appearing on a Paris catwalk in a beard.

Rapping the Humpty Dumpty nursery rhyme on national television.

I have a deep-rooted fear of being in trouble. I once tried to sneak into the back of a photography exhibition with my husband when one of our kids was in a pushchair. We’d arrived late and he suggested we go in through the gift shop and see the last room. As we poked our heads round the door, the security guard noticed us. I shouted, “That man’s trying to get in!”, then ran away.

Probably watching some poor abandoned cat or dog being nursed back to life by a stranger on YouTube.

Not being flexible enough to dance freely.

A business-class flight. Pure indulgence.

Like everything is in high definition, and life is on your side.

In a rehearsal just after graduating from drama college, I say my lines to an older actor. He pauses, turns to the director and says: “I’m sorry, but is she going to do it like that?”

Anyone whose party I said I’d go to and didn’t turn up. I can get quite socially anxious at times.