Shitting myself in New York last November. I was wearing cream trousers. We were going to see my son Matty and his band, the 1975, at Madison Square Garden, and I was walking through the streets, enjoying the sunshine, pretending I was in some kind of video – throwing my hat into the New York sky like Mary Tyler Moore. I saw a couple of people turn and look at me. Now, although I’m not famous in New York, whenever Matty’s there I do get recognised as his mum, so I’m smiling and waving at them. I went back to the hotel room and bent over to get something out of the suitcase, and my husband said: “Do you realise you’ve shat yourself?”

At the Mighty Hoopla festival, Kimberley and Nicola from Girls Aloud joined me on stage for a Girls Aloud song. I completely forgot the words.

When I was starting out, in the early 90s, I had to fake an orgasm in a room full of male ad execs at an audition for a chocolate bar ad. It was grim.

I was 17 and about to go on a first date with my first boyfriend. I was so desperate for my mum not to meet him that I was trying to get to the door before she did. I ran down the stairs as she opened it, and slid down the last five steps on my arse.

Be kind and do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Amazing, all-consuming, overwhelming.

Your average aid worker, wherever they may be. Any human being doing good by helping others, while putting themselves in harm’s way.

As a decent bloke.

Other people’s suffering.

Coming under attack while reporting in Iraq.