Martin Scorsese. I was, let’s say, slightly tactile with him during a Q&A; I was more nervous than I’ve been about anything. I kept tapping his knee, it might even have been bruised by the end.

I didn't go to a retirement party once for someone who had been special to me and he died shortly after.

A little girl called Pat. We were nine-year-olds together and all the class made her life a misery. I knew she wanted to be my friend and I would only be friends with her if nobody else was around. I feel dreadful about that.

To my cousin P, who was one of my best mates growing up. We lost him when we were in our 20s and, before he passed away, I was so busy with this stupid thing called life and a brand new kid. He called me and said: “Bro, I’m not feeling right.” And I said: “Bro, you’ve never been feeling right.” And it always sits on my head that if me or somebody else had been paying more attention maybe things would have worked out different. He had extremely rare bowel cancer and died five weeks later at 27.

The really terrible things that are happening in the Middle East made me cry for two days after 7 October. All those poor children on both sides.

Safety, and being able to be completely yourself.

Antiques and art – I collect 17th‑century portraits.

As someone who tried, who had dignity, and stuck to what she believed in despite the storms.

The first time I remember being truly happy was with my children on Ainsdale beach, not far from Southport. I spent £15 on butties, and we spent the whole day by the sea.

I changed my mind on airing my views. Sometimes silence is better.