So many times I’ve wondered what might have happened to me if I had lost my legs, or even just my right one, where my first melanoma appeared two or three years later. If I’d just been a second slower stepping away from the car, I might not be dying now. I’d be legless, of course, but still in good health. Of these fateful forks in the road are our lives made up. We are all just a millimetre away from death, all of the time, if only we knew it.

I could have done without being sexually assaulted, or having an eating disorder, or pushing myself to breaking point, but every chapter of my life brought me here.

I would be richer, I’d have beaten Mrs Thatcher’s ban on women in the cabinet, and I would be a dame.

Some of those late nights.

A visual artist.

I always thought I would be a terrible driver because I’m sort of a wafty person, but it turns out I am very good at staying in between the lines. I passed my test last year.

I once asked a young woman if she had ever heard of the musician Laura Marling, insinuating I knew Laura Marling, to which she replied: “I am Laura Marling.”

People give me a hard time about my hats. Over Christmas, this drunk woman shouted something about me having a shit hat because I had a red beanie on. Last week at a party, someone gave me a hard time for wearing a cap. I just think about melting ice caps when this happens.

I’m actually looking forward to getting older.

Two sturdy teeth.