Both parents, I’ll write the book someday.

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.

To my mum, for never being able to live up to what she would have liked me to be. She always wanted me to be a little princess and I was never going to be that.

My younger self: I had no love for her and I was cruel and she never deserved it.

In some way your life is doubled. You’re you and the other person.

Everything. I’ve one of those brains that doesn’t quieten down.

When I got to 40 and realised I hadn’t read all the books I needed to read to understand the world.

An actor. When I was really young, I wanted to be a fishmonger’s wife.

I would never have gone on a diet. I would go back with the knowledge that not being perfect is fine.

I went to a funeral where they played Cheek To Cheek: Fred Astaire singing “Heaven. I’m in heaven… ” Everyone smiled. I’d like that.