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 Jade, my other half, because I can be hard work sometimes, and he is the most calm and understanding person I’ve ever met.

A couple of ex-boyfriends.

To my daughters and my partner, Tracey, for what I put them through with my transition.

When each of my three children was born.

A singer. I wanted to live off music ever since I was a child – a wish that came true when I was over 35 years old.

As a young man I had a car accident on a foggy night that left the vehicle looking like a squashed box, even though, by some miracle, I walked away unscathed.

Lack of humility, the absence of goodness.

The many nuns and priests who often work in the shadows, dedicating their lives to the service of others.

Earthly life is merely the infancy of our soul. What comes after physical death is, I imagine, like returning home.