On a school trip to Wales when I was 12. My canoe capsized and got stuck upside down next to a rock. I was underwater for about 30 seconds but it felt a lot longer.

I had heart surgery when I was 17. The other time was when I fell off my piano. My head was an inch away from a metal step.

Abseiling down a cliff for Doc Martin in a suit, carrying a medical bag.

None of this was supposed to happen. At 38, I wasn’t supposed to lie on my back in the E.R. on a late December morning and be told by a teary radiation oncology resident that the pain I’d been having for two months — that I’d been assured was from having a weak core after months of chemo — was actually from a tumor that had devoured my L2 vertebra. John wasn’t supposed to have to hold me up on the toilet. Put my pants on for me. Do Christmas Eve for the children without me. I’m not supposed to be thinking about where he will sit and hold my hand as I take my last breath.

Original Pirate Material.

I'd like to write my funeral song.

Realising that success wasn't going to keep me happy all my life.

To my dad for not making it back to Birmingham to see him while I was in London doing The Streets.

When I was a child and I got a new toy.

My brother was singing Yellow Submarine on stage with his class. I was singing along with them, showing off cos I knew all the words. The song ended suddenly and I was the only one in the whole hall who sang, 'We ...'