If you’re a mother, you are embarrassing. Is that not just the way?

When you jump out of addiction and look back, things like drink-driving and sitting in crack houses are not good.

I once threw up on the shoes of one of my vocal heroes, the Deep Purple singer Ian Gillan. He sent me home in a taxi with a towel.

When I was 17, my friends and I threw a fashion show for a breast cancer charity. Breast cancer is something my mum went through when I was 14, so prevention is very close to my heart. Our singer, who was performing during the fashion show, dropped out at the last minute so I had to step in. It’s on video, and my sister always brings it up.

People have said, “I wish you would die.” That’s the stark truth of being in the public eye – people dehumanise you and say ghastly things.

Superiority. I shrink when I’m around people who act superior, whether it’s due to authority or intellect. I almost become mute.

An air steward, because I loved airports. I wrote a letter to British Airways when I was seven and I’ve got the reply in the loft, which says, “You’re a bit young at seven but do stay in touch.” I was that kind of kid who was eager to start the ball rolling.

Picking myself back up after very tricky times and trying again.

I assumed that once I reached some level of achievement, I would feel fixed.

The more you face shame and stare it in the eyes and talk about it, the less potent it is.