My failures have taught me more than the successes, so not much.

I should have known that I might not like what my brain scan showed, just as I should have known that the symptoms of prostatism that were increasingly bothering me were just as likely to be caused by cancer as by the benign prostatic enlargement that happens in most men as they age. But I continued to think that illness happened to patients and not to doctors, even though I was now retired. Twenty months after I had my brain scanned, I was diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer. I had had typical symptoms for years, steadily getting worse, but it took me a long time before I could bring myself to ask for help. I thought I was being stoical when in reality I was being a coward. I simply couldn’t believe the diagnosis at first, so deeply ingrained was my denial.

I would have spent more time practising and got a proper lawyer to sort out my first album contract.

I would try and get to being comfortable with myself quicker.

The power of the press.

You Have Killed Me, by Morrissey.

Getting up the noses of a handful of truly horrible misogynists.

All women who slog their guts out every day, quietly getting on with bringing up their families.

I don’t tend to rank happy times.

Foxes making extremely weird noises.