Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me. After the explosion, I spent the rest of the day putting the pieces together.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
One of the first things I did on arriving at school was to break my left arm falling into a bomb crater.
I woke in bits, like all children, piecemeal over the years. I discovered myself and the world, and forgot them, and discovered them again.
Every day, I wake up, and the first thing I think of is my kids.
Sometimes I come home and still can't believe it's all mine.
My 'thing' is that I just lie in my immense bed and look out the window at the skyline over Virginia and the sky and the airplanes coming into Reagan. I really love doing that.
Then suddenly something just kicked me. I kind of woke up and realised that I was in a different atmosphere than you normally are. My immediate reaction was to back off, slow down.
When I was so fatigued that I couldn't move, the excitement of going to the barn and getting my foot in the stirrup would make me crawl out of bed.
On my job I end up jumping out of planes. Last week I got in an 18-wheeler and drove down a runway onto a skid track. The week before that they put me in a car and sunk me to the bottom of a lake to see if I could escape without an oxygen tank.
I'm usually woken up by the birds and by my schnauzer, Rafa - for me that's the best start to the day. I jump out of bed, throw on some clothes, and race to the polo ground.
I blow up fireworks all the time, and I love making milkshakes and banana splits.