I was 17 and about to go on a first date with my first boyfriend. I was so desperate for my mum not to meet him that I was trying to get to the door before she did. I ran down the stairs as she opened it, and slid down the last five steps on my arse.

When my trousers nearly fell down at Buckingham Palace. I was there to collect my OBE, and the suspenders for the beautiful Alexander McQueen suit I’d had made for the occasion went missing. Naomi Campbell was with me and we had a good laugh about it.

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.

On radio, I once said “anal” instead of “angel”.

In a photo album of just one family.

I would build relationships. I would remember people’s significant moments. I would not fear closeness.

Believing in, even admiring, people who refuse to believe in me, and not believing people who do.

I spent my life searching for family. I travelled around the world to look each one of them in the eye. Unfortunately, but understandably, for most of them, I am their biggest disappointment.

Life is not worth living if there is no one you would die for.

When I was a child, a member of staff at Wood End Assessment Centre [a former children’s home in Wigan] bellowed: “He copies them poems off of Bob Marley records.”