Dreamland. If my imagination is anything to go by, it’s a magical endless place with swirls of deep blue and green.

Anything and everything to do with cars, numbers and patience.

My mother – Beverley Dolley.

Pass – games give me anxiety.

To speak every known (maybe also unknown?) language.

My four grandparents and my dad’s uncle John.

This depends on my mood.

Something involving painting, music, reading and writing all rolled into one.

Some version of a meow.

The company of my family and friends. And also, retrospectively, the solitude and thinking time lockdown provided.

An experience/tiny trip somewhere.

Cheezi, my first cat. And a fan belt that doesn’t shriek.

Wrong word. Wrong time. Wrong place. (I don’t like the flashbacks this question evokes.)

Well, it depends on where the fire is and how big it is. I’d try to grab my cat paintings and my bag if possible.

To keep in mind that nothing is permanent.

It depends on my mood. (If allowed – A certain politician’s reactions to tweets.)

Haloumi’s collar. Or the paint in an FBI officer’s office.

Summer

Probably a neighbourhood watch member in a gang hotspot who goes about their work to protect others, risking their own safety, without much broad recognition.

Fancy cellphones. (Not sure when the detangling hairbrush was invented, but that too.)

Fancy cellphones.