In the hospital giving birth to my second daughter with my first daughter right there in the room as it was happening. I don’t remember any pain. I just remember feeling more alive and full of fierce mama bear love than at any other point in my life.

I consider myself quite a happy person. One of the most exciting times was when Sarah was born.

When I was about eight, by a river waiting for my dad to finish fishing, eating a Mars bar, drinking a can of Coke and listening to Beat It by Michael Jackson on my Walkman. I remember feeling I couldn’t be happier.

The moment I realised I knew how to read. I was five.

Watching seeds grow in the greenhouse. Drawing or reading or cooking.

I don’t think so! You can’t really know that until the moment of your death, at which point you will probably not be afraid because you won’t be there. I have a very old friend who called me last year to say, “Okay I am done. I am not fighting this anymore. I am checking out. I am calling to say goodbye because I am not really conscious most of the time. I am cutting off the pain killers.” He seemed okay. That was not the moment of his death, but it was within two or three days.

I admire the mother of my children a great deal, because she’s interesting, smart and funny.

When I was an idiot high school student, as opposed to being an idiot adult, I used to drive very fast.

That they’re kind, trustworthy, smart, and can hear and communicate and aren’t afraid to do so.