Appear on a school stage and recite Cuthbert: The Boy with a Cart.

Pretend to enjoy watching a soccer match on a freezing cold day.

Own a mustard 1977 three-door Corolla car with fuel injection.

Queue for two hours in customs to view the Statue of Liberty.

Sing The [Girls]Light Up in a small car with eleven people.

Go swimming in a halter-neck with my midriff showing.

Ride a zip-line in Costo Rico and hear a tree fall down.

Be tipped off the back of my brother’s snow mobile.

Buy a Christmas tree before the start of December.

Stand outside a school gate and make small talk.

Order takeaway from a Chinese café in Venice.

Tell my kids it’s time for them to go to bed.

Adore Middlemarch like I did at eighteen.

Recall the rules to interrupted cadences.

Read to the end of a book I don’t like.

Play a game of Murder in the Dark.

Be the last person to leave a party.

Stand in a lift with Joan Rivers.

Wear a Russian wedding ring.

Forget the drive-in speaker.

Put a valance on my bed.

Eat lavender ice-cream.

Teach Sunday School.

Wear a shower cap.

Make paper-toles.

Do a handstand.

Perm my hair.

Grow bonsai.

Bushdance.

Waterski.

Sip gin.