Where do I begin?

Appearing on US breakfast radio. I heard the DJ say that after the news we would hear from the author Lincoln Child. I had to choose between making a guy with a mixed-up PR release look like an idiot or pretending to be Lincoln. I pretended.

Shitting myself in New York last November. I was wearing cream trousers. We were going to see my son Matty and his band, the 1975, at Madison Square Garden, and I was walking through the streets, enjoying the sunshine, pretending I was in some kind of video – throwing my hat into the New York sky like Mary Tyler Moore. I saw a couple of people turn and look at me. Now, although I’m not famous in New York, whenever Matty’s there I do get recognised as his mum, so I’m smiling and waving at them. I went back to the hotel room and bent over to get something out of the suitcase, and my husband said: “Do you realise you’ve shat yourself?”

Having somebody pull my judo trousers down at a competition when I was seven. And finding I wasn’t wearing any pants.

I know I should be more evolved, but the person I would like to say sorry to I’m not ready to say sorry to yet.

With great stories.

That your life is only in this very second.

I thought that I would become more mature about certain things, and it didn’t happen.

I’d edit out all the awful men I managed to find who confirmed my worst suspicions about my body and my character.