My first wife, because I left her.

To my grandma Faye, because I didn’t realise, when I was growing up, what an icon she was. She fought at Cable Street, and worked her arse off to get the family out of the tenements. She had a lot of wisdom to impart.

My late wife – she died of cancer. We tried everything we could do to save her. I wish that I could have done more and that I could have been with her at the moment she passed away. I couldn’t be in that room, because I knew it would be so devastating that I wouldn’t be able to take care of the kids after.

To anyone I’ve worked with between 5.30am and 8.30am. I am not a morning person.

I would have been a better listener. I would have pursued more friendships instead of focusing so much on work and myself. I’m doing all that now, but I’m running out of time.

Less work, more living.

Not being at peace with myself, in spite of an ongoing lifetime effort to try to calm down and accept that, no matter what, I did the best I could.

Citizens around the world blaming others for their personal disappointments, othering them, labelling them, terrorising them with hate-filled rhetoric and shutting the doors of their hearts.

Love is a religious experience, which then requires me to define religion, which I define as everything I don’t understand.