Learning lines.

The fact that I smoke.

Not being there for my daughter.

When my father was in his terminal year, I discussed death with him. I recall very clearly his relief that the cancer that was taking him was at least allowing him "all his marbles". Dementia in its varied forms is not like cancer. Dad saw the cancer in his pancreas as an invader. But Alzheimer's is me, unwinding, losing trust in myself, a butt of my own jokes and on bad days capable of playing hunt the slipper by myself and losing. You can't battle it, you can't be a plucky "survivor". It steals you from yourself. And I'm 60; that's supposed to be the new 40.

Years ago in a safari park in South Africa, and getting all dressed up for dinner. Walking across the lawn, I didn’t realise there was a swimming pool that hadn’t been lit and walked straight into the shallow end fully clothed. It still haunts me. I remember trying to get out as if no one would notice.

When my daughter and my stepdaughters were feeling unhappy, we used to pretend to unlock something in their heart and then pour golden liquid into them, and it always warmed them. For me, that’s what love feels like – a warm feeling inside.

My mum. I was horrendous growing up – I was always arguing with her.

Fear of flying.

I had an opportunity many years ago to move to America and be given a daytime TV show. The kids were quite young and I decided not to, but looking back I wish I had done it.

Living life to the full, not having regrets and not trying to plan your future too much. Just enjoy every minute.