Being a decent person.

There was no importance to what I was doing, but ultimately there was.  The diagrams and the whole business that I got the Nobel Prize for came from that piddling around with the wobbling plate.

Now that I’m at this end of my career, I’m gobsmacked that I’ve managed to cling on for as long as I have.

Watching all of Fellini’s movies one summer.

Handing out leaflets for a European coach trip wearing just lederhosen, in February and March in Surrey. It was freezing, and I got fired.

Having got Aspects of Love back into the West End.

During the technical rehearsal of Aspects of Love in 1989. They told me it would be discreetly lit because I was paranoid about being in just my pants. I walked on and every spotlight in the building followed me round the stage.

“Unfortunately, Michael, I don’t think you’re ever going to work in the acting profession until you’re about 40, and then it’ll only be in minor character roles.” Drama teacher at Guildford School of Acting.

My first summer working, in 1984. I’d come out of drama school, I’d landed a job that got me an Equity card doing Godspell in Aberystwyth – and it was just unmitigated joy.

My dogs. They didn’t cost that much to buy, but I’ve been paying for them since. We’ve two Tibetan terriers, Danny and Wilbur.