My mind is changing about being a mum. I got a dog and the way I feel about it is a lot, and I realise maybe I would want to be a mum.

When I decided that Mavis Staples was right – I don’t need to despise myself.

When I now think of how the uncertainty about my own future, and the proximity of death, threw me into torment, careering wildly between hope and despair, I look back in wonder at how little I thought about the effect I had on my own patients after I had spoken to them. I did worry that if my tone of voice was too pessimistic the poor patient might spend what little time they had left feeling deeply depressed, simply waiting to die. So I tried to find a balance between telling them the truth and not depriving them of hope. After a patient died, I only occasionally heard back from the family, so I had little way of knowing whether the way I had spoken to them was appropriate or not.

I used to be “Mister Disinvestment.” Now I would like to be Mister Investment and say, “Come! Come and be part of an exciting, exhilarating process. Come in! Come in on the ground floor and see a people do something that’s probably never happened before, people seeking to become something radically different from what their antecedents would have made us believe they were likely to become.

A deep sense that they will be fine in the world without me.

I worked in a supermarket on the Kings Road when I was 17, standing by the beers, wines and spirits to make sure people didn’t shoplift. They were such horrible employers that I didn’t care whether people shoplifted or not.

I get a lot of abuse online because of my opposition to the assault on Gaza. The abuse is horrific, but I’ve learned to ignore it. The integrity of how you live your life is more important than what strangers think.

Many times on British roads, because I drive very fast. In another life, I would have liked doing Formula One.

I really wanted a role in Harry Potter and I never got one.

I talk too much.