In a helicopter crash in Wyoming in 2005. My cameraman broke his back and both legs; the pilot broke his back. The helicopter didn’t catch fire, so I’m still here today.

Abseiling down a cliff for Doc Martin in a suit, carrying a medical bag.

In dreams, but that’s about it.

But in a flash there came across me a great project. The chine which the bridge spanned was full of young fir trees. Their slender tops reached to the level of the footway. 'Would it not' I asked myself 'be possible to leap on to one of them and slip down the pole-like stem, breaking off each tier of branches as one descended, until the fall was broken?' I looked at it. I computed it. I meditated. Meanwhile I climbed over the balustrade. My young pursuers stood wonder-struck at either end of the bridge. To plunge or not to plunge, that was the question! In a second I had plunged, throwing out my arms to embrace the summit of the fir tree. The argument was correct; the data were absolutely wrong. It was three days before I regained consciousness and more than three months before I crawled from my bed. The measured fall was 29 feet on to hard ground. But no doubt the branches helped.

Seeing Leyton Orient in the premiership.

Frightening, exhilarating and all-consuming.

Nothing: the good times, the bad times, they make your character.

I’m president of my neighbourhood association. At my first meeting there was a discussion about developments the association should oppose. I said: “Nothing could be as bad as that horrible new house next to the church.” “I designed that,” the chairman replied. I shut up.

When the surgeon told me I wouldn’t be able to play the cello again, in 2013. I have a herniated disc and it’s pressing on a nerve in my neck. I announced I was stopping playing in 2014. I absolutely did not want to stop.

Our beautiful cat was so ill that we were hours away from having her put down. Somehow, we’ve managed to nurse her back to full health again.