Moyra Samuels, Nicole Belfon, Yvette Williams, Judy Bolton and Tasha Brade from Justice4Grenfell, for turning grief into action.

Buzz Aldrin. I met him about 10 years ago and all I could do was look at his feet. What greater thing can you do than walk on the moon?

The Buddhist monk Tapa Snim I met in Burma in 2007, all of whose earthly possessions he carried in a small bundle slung on one shoulder.

Paul Irons, the deputy head at my school, Fernwood comprehensive. He was an inspiration, and still is.

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?”

Funny, annoying and kind.

Oversensitivity.

I was a waitress at a holiday camp. On a Wednesday afternoon all the guys used to pee into the rice pudding and we had to serve it to the customers.

Stopping being such a helicopter parent and worrying about these grownup children’s lives. It drives me mad. And I am having therapy. If I could stop thinking that I should be their first port of call for everything, it would free my head up a bit.

Now, because of my marriage and because since September 2019 I’ve been free of clinical depression.