Not being able to fend for myself and being a burden to others.

Nothing. I love getting old – I love the freedom it allows you.

I am genuinely buzzed about it! I think we just keep getting better, smarter, wiser, truer, happier.

One by one the more vigorous sports and exacting games fall away. Exceptional exertions are purchased only by a more pronounced and more prolonged fatigue. Muscles may relax, and feet and hands slow down; the nerve of youth and manhood may become less trusty. But painting is a friend who makes no undue demands, excites to no exhausting pursuits, keeps faithful pace even with feeble steps, and holds her canvas as a screen between us and the envious eyes of Time or the surly advance of Decrepitude. Happy are the painters, for they shall not be lonely.

I haven’t grown up.

My own biography! Being serious, there’s an Australian novel by Gregory Roberts called Shantaram that I didn’t read through.

Maybe in the 1990s, but I was so selfish at the time, I wouldn’t really have noticed what was going on.

I don’t know and I don’t really care – I’ll be dead.

My relationship with drugs.

Looking down at other people. I was brought up to treat people as you treat yourself, with respect. The people you meet on the way up are the people you meet on the way down.