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To be honest, I think I'd become a bit selfish with memories of my father. I wanted to hug them close to me.

I would spend months and months looking for a sound. I had to do that, or I wouldn't feel the extreme emotions I was feeling in my heart.

Being a heart throb would be crazy.

I would literally climb out of the cradle while my parents slept, go and crawl off. I did this a couple of times apparently. I'd cross the road and into someone's house, wake them up banging pots and pans in the kitchen.

Ever since I was a child, I would start crying seeing anyone in pain.

That was essential to my journey: the ability to love children while simultaneously having your heart broken.

As a child I was not allowed to express my feelings, so I had to go back through therapy and express the child's pain.

I would climb on roofs and jump off using my parents' bed sheet, hoping it would open like a parachute. I was always getting hurt, breaking a leg, you know, bruising, cracking my head open.