The sport would not survive today if drivers were being killed at the rate they were in the 1960s and '70s. It would have been taken off the air. It is beamed into people's living rooms on Sunday afternoons, with children watching.

Sunday afternoon is for papers and writing.

I had a lot of time to think, and that is not good for your mind. And when it actually happened, it was not so much a celebration but the relief. It was an exorcism anxiety. After each race there is a procedure in which you get taken off to the podium and the TV interviews.

I have been looking after the children. My wife has taken time off.

Bootleggers quake in fear of me ringing them on a Sunday afternoon. I call after dinner, usually.

Millions long for immortality who don't know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon.