I’m quite stubborn.

Impatience. The inability to ever finish a knitting project.

I’m monstrously judgmental. It’s like talking to the pope.

My lack of foreign language skills.

As someone who delivered a bold and reforming Labour government, as a great dad and a great friend.

There are yards and yards and yards of abuse every day. I ignore the lot of it.

Ever since they were born, Vic and I have been clear: happiness and confidence are the two things we want most for our children and the rest can all fall into place.

When I was appointed director of public prosecutions, I had a government car and visited the security services. When I came out, I got into the back of what I thought was my car, but it was somebody’s private car and they told me in no uncertain terms to get out. I had to reverse out with as much dignity as I could, with the head of security services watching.

Having more time to spend with Vic and the kids.

My mum died in her early 70s, and for the last six or seven years of her life she couldn’t move, didn’t speak. By the time our children were born, she was too ill to communicate. I haven’t many regrets in life, but I do regret that they never got to know her, even though she was still alive for a few years. They couldn’t see her warmth, her spirit, her courage.