I was in the musical Elvis, and after a costume change I went below stage to be raised up on a platform. As I was raised up, I blanked and couldn’t remember the first line of the song King Creole. I mumbled the first few lines and hoped nobody would notice.

Being on the cover of a magazine at 18 with the slogan: “Did she ruin The Godfather?”

On stage in Tasmania, I tripped over a floor monitor and landed on my back like a turtle, kicking my legs in the air trying to get back on my feet in front of about 5,000 people. But when I got on my feet, the whole crowd roared in triumph.

I did an interview years ago and, after it finished, I made some passing comment about sex getting better as you get older – and they used that as the headline. The day the paper came out, I was in a restaurant with the family when a woman on the table next to me leaned over and said, in a sultry voice, “I read your article this morning.”

To be stuck in the past.

Steady, reaching, bewildered.

Having regrets and not knowing what to do about them.

You reach a certain point in life and suddenly know a lot of dead people, and I’ve noticed you don’t stop getting to know people who are dead. Those relationships continue and I like that.

A running accident when I was 14 or 15. I fainted but I was a bit of a jester and they thought I was taking the piss, so I was left for a bit. I woke up in hospital.

A movie. Does it have a name? It might do.