My soon-to-be ex-wife, Amanda. I wish I’d been able to do whatever would have been necessary all the way back to keep us as a unit. Probably the worst thing I did was not tell her how miserable I was, certain that I could turn this around somehow.

Some of my teachers. I was a bit of a handful as a kid. They were just trying to do their job and I made it very difficult.

Lots of people, mainly for being so absent from their lives while I was concentrating on sport. I’d also like to say sorry to my dad’s mum, because, aged four, I told her she was the worst cook in the world.

To my brother. When he was a small boy, I made him urinate on an electric fence to see if liquid could really transmit electricity.

Love is a religious experience, which then requires me to define religion, which I define as everything I don’t understand.

Not being at peace with myself, in spite of an ongoing lifetime effort to try to calm down and accept that, no matter what, I did the best I could.

Less work, more living.

I would have been a better listener. I would have pursued more friendships instead of focusing so much on work and myself. I’m doing all that now, but I’m running out of time.

Citizens around the world blaming others for their personal disappointments, othering them, labelling them, terrorising them with hate-filled rhetoric and shutting the doors of their hearts.