I go in every day to the office. I don't accomplish hardly anything. I mean, in terms of – it just takes me way longer to do things. And Greg is so good. It was kind of embarrassing how good he is, because he has covered – you know, we've got about 200 businesses within Berkshire, you know, that came about, and I can't name the manager's names or their wives names, or – and I haven't seen them, you know, in a long time. It's easier just to write the letter once a year and kind of do my own thing. Greg covers more ground in a day than I would in a week, even when I was at my peak, let alone my present condition.

Having regrets and not knowing what to do about them.

Losing my eyesight – I live for the view, and the sunset and the sunrise.

So far, getting older has made almost everything better.

Finding your phone.

Outside my very close-knit group of friends, socially I’m terrible.

I did say sorry to my mum, for being the way I was when I was a teenager. You become a parent and go, “Oh my God, this is what they were doing.”

Certainty. I also can’t stand it when someone calls you and then says, “Wait, I need to put my headphones in.”

When I was about two, I accidentally knocked a boiled kettle on myself. I am scarred, in many ways, from that.

At school, I got my head stuck in a balustrade on the stairs at lunchtime. I had pupils laughing at me, parents laughing at me, teachers laughing at me and eventually, at the end of the day, the fire brigade laughing at me.