I visit English country churchyards where historical figures are buried.
I don't take things for granted, because everything feels more fragile. It's made me wonder about mortality and how long you've got somebody in the world. I'm more fearful than I used to be.
I don't like lifts and will walk up 20 flights of stairs if I have to. Crowded rooms make me uncomfortable, too, although I can sing to a stadium full of thousands of people no bother.
I think for anybody, any family, and I know there are families out there that are going through this even now, that it is the hardest thing in the world. Nobody is ever prepared for it.
I find it very, very hard. He was part of the fabric of my life. We were kids together, and teenagers. We spent the whole of our lives with each other because of our music.
Music became an obsession, and eventually we felt more comfortable with each other then we did with anyone else. The three of us were like one person.
I hadn't accepted he was seriously ill. The idea that someone so close to you couldn't wake up was utterly incomprehensible. Then the doctor came in... Maurice had no brain left. There wasn't any activity at all.
If the heart stops for more than two minutes, you have massive brain death. There are only two minutes between our conscious world and zero. That's how fragile our consciousness is.
We said we'd fly the flag without him and carry on. I didn't give him a kiss because I still hadn't accepted what was happening. I was hoping that some miracle was going to happen. Of course, it didn't. I wish I had kissed him now.
I don't like fruit but I'm vegetarian, so eat a lot of veggies.