My house by the sea to the sound of ropes pinging against boat masts and gulls on the roof. Instant coffee, white toast and watching The Wright Stuff in bed. It’s my last day! If I haven’t done it yet I don’t want to cram it all in now.

Book all the headliners that I’ve never managed to book for Bestival, for future Bestivals that my children will run after I die. Kate Bush, Prince, Dolly Parton, David Bowie – maybe throw Iron Maiden in there for a bit of a laugh. I’d get on the mobile and stroll around outside and do some deals. Maybe get some of these hard-arse agents to give me a bit of a discount as I’m dying.

The rest of that night is a feverish blur. I asked to talk to my mom; had a slice of chocolate cake; prayed. I remember waking up every few hours and seeing my mother praying by my bedside, then every nurse in the hospital, and then every cleaning staff member who loved my father for his kindness toward them throughout the years — all praying for me.

There’s a few enemies I’d like to take with me. I think mostly telling my family how much I love them, stuff you don’t do. We’ve all lost people and you think, ‘well, I wish I would have said that to them’, or, ‘I wish I would have told them this’. So there would be a lot of that, telling people I love them and what they mean to me and stuff.