When I had cancer. I was having a shave and thought: “Are you meant to have a big hard lump on one side of your neck?”

I was caught by a wave while swimming at night with friends in Southampton. That shook me.

And actually now having had the advantage of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and being able to look at some of the records of what the apartheid government was doing, the thing that is surprising to me is why so many of us survived. I mean, how is it that they did not assassinate more of us?

A blood clot in my artery when I was 23.

My wife. I am a lavish present-giver. I love worshipping my wife with beautiful bits and pieces – it is one of my greatest pleasures.

Other people’s decorating, if I feel they’ve missed an opportunity and just decorated in that wet-cardboard, modern-grey thing. That’s a life not properly lived.

I am crucified by my modesty: it’s terrible.

The missus. She is the glamour mamma mia at the top of our feudal pyramid. We all live together, so she’s a full-time grandmother and rules the roost. How she steered us through lockdown was extraordinary.

This is going to horribly upset my wife, my children and my grandchildren, but it was when I did The Greatest Snowman last year for Channel 4. Being let loose on an Austrian mountainside to build snow sculptures was my happy point, and who knew I’d find an icy G-spot at nearly 58.