One of these days I will encounter what Henry James called on his deathbed “the distinguished thing.” I will not be conscious of the moment of passing. In this life I have already been declared dead. It wasn’t so bad. After the first ruptured artery, the doctors thought I was finished. My wife, Chaz, said she sensed that I was still alive and was communicating to her that I wasn’t finished yet. She said our hearts were beating in unison, although my heartbeat couldn’t be discovered. She told the doctors I was alive, they did what doctors do, and here I am, alive.

Modelling in South Korea, aged 19. After a party, I flopped into bed, lit a big candle and balanced it on top of a massive box of matches. I created my own firework display when the candle burnt down and set fire to it. It made the biggest noise ever which, luckily, woke me from my slightly boozy slumber.

Having a heart attack two days after my wife’s funeral.

I lived in New York during 9/11 and worked a couple of blocks away from the twin towers. I was looking when the first tower exploded and then when the second plane flew in and, before we had to evacuate, I did see people jump to their death.

The most unabashed joy I’ve ever felt was that first 24 hours of magic after our son was born in California last June.