A table that used to belong to David Bowie: it was £13,000.

Our campervan. It’s fully kitted out, sleeps four and lowers down, so we can get in and out easily.

My penny farthing. It was £1,200. I’ve ridden it to Buckingham Palace and back.

My hybrid car. Not glamorous, not fast, but indispensable.

Not applying myself enough at school.

I wish I could say sorry to my husband, because I couldn’t save him from his dementia.

Two days ago, at a family wedding, remembering Richard, my cousin. He was 11 months younger than me and we were brought up like brother and sister for the first four years of our lives. He died of a brain tumour when he was 55.

In the minutes, hours, days and weeks after having my children. I was 42 and 45. There’s nothing like new life.

One of my favourite songs is Being Alive, from Company by Stephen Sondheim, but it would hardly be appropriate.

A ballet dancer, but it changed to being an actress when I got put in a school play.