As a young man I had a car accident on a foggy night that left the vehicle looking like a squashed box, even though, by some miracle, I walked away unscathed.

When I was young, I was pretty reckless – my 20s were quite hedonistic. I don’t know whether I’ve been close to death, but I may have been without realising.

I rolled back the images. Looked again. There it was. A new tumor, large, filling my right middle lobe. It looked, oddly, like a full moon having almost cleared the horizon. Going back to the old images, I could make out the faintest trace of it, a ghostly harbinger now brought fully into the world. I was neither angry nor scared. It simply was. It was a fact about the world, like the distance from the sun to the Earth.

Climbing Scafell Pike in the Lake District when I was about 15. The winds were about 85mph, my legs lifted and I nearly flew off. Thankfully somebody grabbed me.

Getting my teeth done. I had veneers and it took 18 months.

When Sean Connery died. He was a big tennis fan – a big Andy fan – and I met him a few times.

That Scottish tennis has failed to capitalise on the successes of Jamie and Andy.

When I was 17, I was offered a tennis scholarship at the University of Virginia. I wish I had been brave enough to take it.

Firm, fair, fun.

Billie Jean King. She’s the reason tennis is such an equal sport in terms of opportunity for women.