The rest of that night is a feverish blur. I asked to talk to my mom; had a slice of chocolate cake; prayed. I remember waking up every few hours and seeing my mother praying by my bedside, then every nurse in the hospital, and then every cleaning staff member who loved my father for his kindness toward them throughout the years — all praying for me.

I’d make the best double album ever. People hate double albums and always say, ‘this should have just been one’, like ‘Sandinista!’ by The Clash. I’d like to try and achieve a double album that everyone says, ‘actually, I could do with it being three’. I’d have to get up early.

I would like to have read all the novels of Charles Dickens. My dad always said he was the best novelist in the English language, and I think I should work out if he was right or not. He usually was right about those things.

I’d need instant satellite communication on my website and a camera. The achievement now would be to channel the last songs before I drop the body. If I was healthy and not ill I would like to spend the hours composing on camera online with as many people that wanted to experience the last day of song writing.