A holiday in New York for my son Arran’s 18th.

A Rolls-Royce. I met my wife, Jackie, when I was filming a Lynda La Plante drama called The Governor. I fell in love with her instantly and I was bullshitting that I had a Rolls-Royce. When I finished filming, she decided to leave her country and come and live with me in London. On the way to the airport, I phoned my PA and said, “Go and buy a Rolls-Royce.”

My collection of paintings. I have some by William Burroughs.

My piano, a boudoir grand. I’ve played since I was six.

When I was 16, I’d just won full scholarships to both the Royal Academy and the Royal College of Music, and felt like the world was my oyster.

Twice I should have died in car accidents when both my cars were written off. I was completely unhurt; the cello was completely unhurt, too. A complete miracle.

Nothing: the good times, the bad times, they make your character.

When the surgeon told me I wouldn’t be able to play the cello again, in 2013. I have a herniated disc and it’s pressing on a nerve in my neck. I announced I was stopping playing in 2014. I absolutely did not want to stop.

I’m president of my neighbourhood association. At my first meeting there was a discussion about developments the association should oppose. I said: “Nothing could be as bad as that horrible new house next to the church.” “I designed that,” the chairman replied. I shut up.

Seeing Leyton Orient in the premiership.