A 1956 Selmer silver alto saxophone.

A painting by Renoir, paid for by demanding a huge fee for a screenwriting deal with a producer I didn’t want to work for. The movie was never made.

My dog was quite expensive. She’s a Bedlington whippet, named Rafi after Mohammed Rafi, the famous Indian singer. She’s got a boy’s name, but she doesn’t mind.

My beautiful silver Jaguar XKR soft-top.

Childbirth. And the wheel of our camper van coming clean off on the M1.

That the last general election didn’t take place later. We might have got rid of the Tories with a couple more weeks.

I cleaned for a very posh lady in Knightsbridge who made me handwash her knickers. I’d advertised myself in The Lady as a dog walker, so I’m not sure how I ended up there.

Every time I got drunk and out of order. Especially in my teens and 20s.

To all those whose fleeting interaction with me has fallen short of what they’d hoped; the unwitting recipients of my occasional grumpiness.

Worrying that I’ve upset people.