When were you happiest?

But the years 1895 to 1900 which are the staple of this story exceed in vividness, variety and exertion anything I have known—except of course the opening months of the Great War. When I look back upon them I cannot but return my sincere thanks to the high gods for the gift of existence. All the days were good and each day better than the other. Ups and downs, risks and journeys, but always the sense of motion, and the illusion of hope.

In Paris and Italy, the summer after graduating from college.

In a pool this summer with the children.

Sending off the final draft of my latest novel.

Christmas Eve: shops closed, family all together!

My best times have been around my family.

When my daughter, Katie, was born and when she got married.

When my son was born in 2000.

Running down a hill in midsummer sunshine aged eight, singing ELO's Mr Blue Sky.

In my second year at Oxford University. There was much lolling over the side of punts on the river with languid male companions plying me with cheap champagne.

As a young child in the West Indies and having fun with my friends, playing sport and hanging about.

This may sound nauseating, but I am a very happy person. I love my work, I love my life and I'm told by those who know/love me that it's a bit like living with Tigger. Bloody annoying, I should think.

Lots of times, mostly all connected to Gordon and my children.

When I hit 40. I made a lot of mistakes in my 20s and spent most of my 30s changing nappies.

Now. My life is better with every year of living it.

In college, meeting my wife and then having our first child, and marching together to bring down the walls of Jim Crow.

The day of my civil partnership.

I'm happy a lot; the birth of children produced the biggest highs, along with parachuting.

Married, in my Georgian house, four cats. It lasted a day.

My student days at Cambridge.