Bowie was the first music I really connected with. I’m 19, so wasn’t around when he arrived, but he always felt modern to me – the way he challenged definitions, his confidence, the way he was a figure of self-acceptance for people who don’t feel represented, as well as playing a character.  After my mum texted to tell me he had died, I got into the shower and cried  After my mum texted to tell me that he had died, I got into the shower and cried. I suppose I was crying because it meant I would never get a chance to tell Bowie how important he’d been to us.  Later I saw the reaction unfolding on Twitter, and it became clear that everyone was desperate to talk, to be together, to share his music. So I made a Facebook event, a street party in Brixton, near the mural of his portrait.  In the first hour there were more than 500 responses – eventually that grew to 9,000. I didn’t organise anything really. I just located a space.  At 6pm there were only a couple of us with a guitar and loads of TV cameras. Then the crowds formed. Someone projected the Life on Mars video from their flat on to the wall. There were a lot of tears, but it was much happier than I thought it would be. At one point there were a thousand of us singing “Starman” at the top of our voices.  Gender politics had always been a part of my life, but it was this that made me get involved with the Women’s Equality party and meet people like the Labour MP Stella Creasy, who invited me for a drink at the House of Commons.  I suppose what she saw in me was someone who was staying true to their self, which seems to be the main thrust of what sparked people’s imaginations. I went into a bit of a bunker after it all blew up. I didn’t read any of the press about my awards, or follow it on social media, and to be honest, I’ve forgotten quite a lot about the whole thing, mainly because I’ve been working nonstop, first on a space film called Life, then on The Nutcracker, which of course have been totally different from Mad Max.  If Nutcracker is nominated next year, I won’t wear a fancy gown. I’d look like Widow Twanky. Just like with Mad Max, I’d be paying homage to the film, so possibly there’d be some glitter involved.  I’m still shocked at what an impact it had. I wore trousers – it ended up meaning so much more. I’m interested to see what everybody else wears this year. If it proved one thing, it’s the power of clothes.  Go is seen as an artform in Asia and people have played it for thousands of years: they consider that it embodies the mysteries of the universe in some way. So we knew the DeepMind Go match was going to be quite a big event in South Korea, but we didn’t realise the whole country would come to a standstill watching it.  Go is so complex that you need something akin to human intuition to win  We’d spent two years developing the AlphaGo artificial intelligence programme. Go is so complex – with more possible positions than atoms in the universe – that you need something akin to human intuition to win. The challenge was to mimic aspects of human intuition, like subconscious pattern matching.  We knew AlphaGo had advantages and disadvantages. It can’t read Go books or learn from other people – it has to build its own knowledge.  So before the match with grandmaster Lee Sedol, we didn’t know how well it was going to do. AlphaGo had played against itself a million times, but we weren’t sure if it would be weak against a human player who could be more creative.  The evening before the match they were predicting a 5-0 loss: the consensus until then was that it would take another 10-20 years to develop a programme to beat a world champion. But it was how AlphaGo won that was amazing, with astounding moves that were so creative. Since that game, the top players all want to play against it. Sedol told me afterwards it was the most amazing experience of his life.  When I saw that big English boy coming towards us with his mobile, happily shouting: “I’ve got a picture with the hijacker!” I couldn’t resist saying: “You are an idiot, man.” I wish I’d slapped him. What if he really had a bomb? I fly often, but I’m not relaxed any more. Now I constantly look around. For the first two months I didn’t manage to get back to work.  The hijacker was the man sitting in the aircraft tail, on the hostess seat, appearing and disappearing behind the curtains. In Cyprus, he released everyone apart from the staff and us, the five westerners. It scared me so badly. “Here we go,” I thought. We were gathered in the tail. I thought: I hope the commander managed to empty the fuel tanks, the hijacker might have explosives on him.  Then I thought, if I lower myself in the seat, it will help take the worst of the explosion. Meanwhile the English boy, Benjamin, goes to the bathroom and returns with that picture. I was so angry. As well as thinking it was absurd. I heard him saying on television that he got the picture to ascertain whether the belt was really explosive. Which is plainly not true. He smiled like a kid.  I was not laughing. I was on the phone with my wife, telling her, “If anything happens to me, give my bike to a friend and ask him to scatter my ashes at full speed.”  Leicester got rid of manager Nigel Pearson and put Claudio Ranieri in charge and that made me think they could do really well. They had a manager with so much experience, anything could happen.  The odds against winning the premier league were 5,000/1, which was very appealing. And stranger things have happened. I was camping in the middle of a field in Cornwall with my fiancée and I downloaded the William Hill app and put £1 on. It helped that I’d had a few drinks. Then I thought, if this actually happens I’ll be fuming at the end of the season – so I put £5 on them to win before they’d even kicked a ball.  I’m not a nervous person but towards the end of the season it was quite unbearable. It took over my life  It was just banter all the way up to Christmas and then it started to sink in. I’m really not a nervous person, but towards the end of the season it was quite unbearable. It took over my life. What had been a laugh and a joke got more tense with each game.  Just before the end of the season, they played Manchester United. I was on a stag weekend in Tallinn. I was actually sick that day through nerves – that’s how bad it got. I came back and Chelsea beat Spurs and that was it, Leicester had won.  It was the weirdest feeling. It started off as a nice experience, but it got to a stage where it was just too much for me. You just can’t handle the number of phone calls you get. Stuff like that doesn’t happen to me. There were thousands of reports online, and pictures off my Facebook. I sort of embraced it. I thought, nothing like this is ever going to happen again. I didn’t do myself any favours.  About a month before, it had all got too much, and I cashed out £2 of the £5 pound bet so in total I got about £20,000 instead of £25,000.  I didn’t meet any of the players or anything like that. I was a bit annoyed that the club didn’t contact me. I was hoping that they might do. But I suppose you can’t have it all. At the celebrations, I did keep thinking, when people who didn’t even know me congratulated me, this isn’t my day, this is Leicester’s day.  In a depressing year of politics defined by fear and division, the election of Sadiq Khan as Mayor of London was a rare moment of joy. I first met Sadiq when we were both starting out as young lawyers. Everyone could see he was a precocious legal talent. But what really made him stand out was his unshakeable confidence, not just about his own skills, but about what he could do for his clients.  Siren voices asked if Londoners were ready to elect a Pakistani origin mayor of Islamic faith  At a time when people like us – a British Asian and a mixed-race guy, from comprehensive schools – were uncommon in the legal profession, he refused to see himself as an outsider: if we showed we had the ability, then we belonged. It was inspiring.  That same inspiring confidence and sense of belonging was on display this year. Siren voices asked throughout the campaign whether Londoners were ready to elect a British-born, Pakistani-origin mayor of Islamic faith. Londoners answered with a resounding “yes” in May.  I am honoured to be working with Sadiq again, now as his deputy mayor for social integration and social mobility. I have the chance to help him give others the same opportunities he had, and to ensure Londoners live truly interconnected lives. It has also allowed me to see up close the excitement and energy surrounding his new mayoralty. From surprised commuters sneaking a selfie when they see him on the Northern Line, to business and civic leaders in Paris and Chicago keen to forge new links with London, everyone is enthusiastic about a mayor who so aptly represents the confidence and aspirations of a modern, diverse city. Bill Clinton summed it up when he turned to Sadiq during a discussion in New York and said, “I cheered when I saw you had been elected. We all did.”  London is proud that it voted for Sadiq Khan. And the world is proud of London for doing so.  The Vote Leave bus provided the focus for visits. As to the £350m, it was accurate – that’s what we’ve lost control over. I hadn’t known Boris before I worked with him on the bus. We’d have this daily meeting and he’d ask, “Are we still on the right track?” I liked that. The greatest criticism I got from Labour party members was not the side I’d taken (they knew my views), it was the fact that I was working with Boris.  The outside world assumes we are all hard-skinned creatures. I think Boris found it difficult. At times it got to him, like it got to all of us. You go out and people shout at you things like “traitor”. It is difficult.  What surprises me most now is that the Remain side have not taken ownership of the fact that they have lost. They are still talking about it as if something has gone wrong with the electorate. We are back on an almost daily basis to refighting the referendum.  My family is from Bavaria so they understand more the view of people in the UK who are critical of the EU. There were emails during the campaign in which German people made out that I was a traitor to the German post-world war project. But it has settled since the result. I was at a meeting recently where I explained to people in Germany why the British people voted as they did and they listened and understood. There was a real sadness though.  Winning the Palme d’Or for I, Daniel Blake was extraordinary. It was an endorsement and meant distributors were given confidence to show the film, so a lot of people saw it and it couldn’t be ignored. It’s rattled a few cages, which is what we hoped for.  Across Europe there are people in comparable situations. When we were researching the script we found people who were feeding their kids biscuits because they had no money. There’s a level of poverty that’s just not talked about. I think that’s something fiction can do that a straight news report can’t. It takes you into people’s inner lives.  If the film is to be anything other than a news story that fades, it’s got to translate into political action. The demand for food banks has gone through the roof. A lot of people become homeless. At every screening people put up their hands and say: “It happened to me.” We heard story after story: when Iain Duncan Smith and others say the film isn’t accurate, they’re lying. We know it is accurate.  As the CEO of Women’s Aid, I’ve met women from all walks of life who have been through domestic abuse. Amber Heard’s allegations about Johnny Depp were all too appallingly familiar. What was disappointing was how immediate the backlash was. People were quick to wade in and blame her and accuse her of lying. [Depp denied all the allegations and the case was settled out of court.] When a women makes an allegation of domestic abuse, people tend to pick around for ulterior motives.  We saw an increase in women coming forward after The Archers’ abuse storyline, and when Amber went public the numbers of calls to police skyrocketed.  Domestic abuse charities are underfunded and we don’t tend to be the sort of charity that celebrities like to attach themselves to so, in a sense, Amber’s public statement was extremely powerful. womensaid.org.uk  Being in Downing Street on the night of 23 June felt like walking across a path to safety, only to suddenly drop into quicksand. No one was going to pull us out.  As I arrived in No 10 that evening, still wearing a “Stronger In” T-shirt, everyone was nervous, despite people queuing up to say we’d won. The markets were buoyant, pollsters were confident and even Nigel Farage was conceding defeat.  The early results put the lie to that. Come 4am it was clearly over. Slumped in his office chair, the prime minister dismissed arguments he should stay on. “It would be miserable. I’d be being prepared for the slaughterhouse. Just waiting for the tap on the shoulder.” I watched him disappear along the corridor to spend time with his family.  When David Cameron came down a few hours later, he said: ‘Well that didn’t go according to plan’  When he came downstairs a few hours later, David Cameron said: “Well, that didn’t go to plan!” Of course he cared deeply – he was simply trying to lead people through his and their pain in a very English way.  After a concession call to Michael Gove, we prepared a speech. He walked out with Sam by his side, the first signal to the world he was going. I turned up the TV in the Private Office and watched with George Osborne. I put my arm around Kate Fall, the deputy chief of staff, who was in tears. As David got to the final sentences about loving his country, we could see he was choking up.  What felt like the whole of No 10 was now gathered, and David and Sam returned to a round of applause. He waved his hand to silence everyone, but we refused to stop. After a short speech about loving his team, he disappeared into his office.  I could give endless reasons why Remain lost, many of them our fault. But in essence, we thought we were able to take more hits than we actually could. As David told me: “We were asking too many people to vote for an EU they didn’t like and immigration they didn’t want.”  Unleashing Demons: The Inside Story of Brexit by Craig Oliver is available from Hodder & Stoughton £20. To order a copy for £15.80, go to bookshop.theguardian.com  When Baltimore, Ferguson and other protests broke out, I couldn’t travel. I had to work in my job as a nurse. I had bills to pay. I made excuses. I remember the guilt of feeling that I should be there.  So when the opportunity to travel to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, from where I live in Pennsylvania came, I jumped in. My grandmother, who I’m very close to, really didn’t want me to go. She was scared for me. I am 28 years old and I have a young son, but it was time I stood up.  I arrived to a peaceful protest. There was no violence coming from the protesters, but the police had no issue about having their sticks out and one officer had his gun out and pointed – he obviously didn’t see the irony. They were ready to attack us.  I wasn’t aware that the space around me had cleared in the moment that this picture was taken, and I wasn’t scared. I consciously made eye contact with the officers. I wanted them to see me, to see my anger. I wanted them to feel what I was feeling, but there was nothing.  I was arrested and bundled into a van afterwards and taken to a holding facility, where I was strip searched, put in jail clothes and then taken to a prison. I was there for 24 hours.  Nearly six months on, I don’t dwell on what happened that day and I don’t want any praise. It was a moment in time and one I would repeat in a heartbeat.  People around the world don’t realise how bad things are for black people in the US. Racism here is so ingrained – even under the Obama administration. White people care more about their animals than they care about us. There is a disconnect in the way we are living. The way we are being human. That needs to change.  When the Democrats asked us to speak at their convention we huddled together and both our children told us not to do it. They said it would have a terrible backlash. But somebody had to say something. Our niece called us after Trump’s statement banning Muslims, she said: “Should I take my scarf off? I’m afraid.”  My wife Ghazala wrote the speech. I wanted to start by saying: “These are my words. I have not copied it from Mrs Obama,” but she said no, this is not according to the dignity of the occasion.  My children said it would have a terrible backlash. But somebody had to say something  We expected Trump to understand that sometimes if you let things pass nothing will come of them. Things would not have been so blown out of proportion. We were hoping he would simply say, “Well, that’s their point of view” and move on. But he didn’t.  There have been so many incidents, mostly against Muslims, in the weeks since the election. That is a source of fear. Suppose you and I are walking and somebody comes to me and says, “Get out of this country.” Just that statement, especially to children in schools, and women. That’s a very serious concern.  Somebody sent me two sets of speeches: Hitler’s speeches made in Germany and Trump’s speeches made in this election. Similar thoughts, similar sentiments: “Immigrants are bad. Immigrants are harming us. They’re going to take over our culture, our race, our country.”  Trump hasn’t made one statement saying: “I’m the president of the whole country now and I want everybody to be heartened and have faith in the constitution, in our democratic values.” I’m simply saying, people are concerned, hearten them, say something positive.  To the last breath my son [Humayun, a US army captain, was killed in Iraq in 2004] was doing something for others. So it is under his spirit, under his grace, his example, that we move forward to care for others.  When I came to France last year it was like this, winter and very cold. I slept outside in a place at Calais port and every night would try to get a lift with a big truck into the UK. The French police would fire tear gas and water at us.  I have three cousins who live in Manchester and that is where I wanted to go. In Eritrea I was forced to be in the army where there are no wages, nothing to eat and I was beaten. The conditions are very bad. I ran away to find work so that I could send money for my mother, who is alone.  Ethiopians, Eritreans and some Afghans came together in this place of God  I didn’t want to go to the Jungle at first because I was determined the next night I would get through. But then I met a man who saw the crucifix I wear and asked me to come and help build the church. I’m a carpenter so I went. By then St Michael’s was made of cardboard, so we put up plastic and wood that we found around the place.  People brought us the tools they had and pieces of cloth for the ground. I met many people who shared my language and my faith. To see the holy pictures and to sing and hear the Amharic songs gave me solace. It was a real beacon of light in dark times. I’m Orthodox, but it was Catholics and Lutherians, Ethiopians and Eritreans and some Afghans who came together in this place of God.  We called it St Michael’s for the guardian angel as it was his feast day when we finished. Visitors came from all around the world to see our place – from America, Russia and Korea and other places.  It didn’t matter that it was not brick, that we had no priest. Hagos Kesete (pictured above) was a student of God who led the services because he had a Bible. I have heard he is now in England. Also the others (who helped build the church) are in England now, I think.  I left Calais for Germany because I heard the French police would be coming to arrest us all. Just after I left it was bulldozed. It did not matter that it was destroyed, the church is in my heart still. Always.Hasane Tesfase’s name has been changed to protect his family  We got a call telling us the location of the attack – it was another Russian strike. As soon we reached the scene we realised that there were civilians trapped in one apartment. A man was pointing them out.  We had to go through another building to rescue them. The first boy we rescued was five-year-old Omran. My team mate took him out to the ambulance and sat him on a chair and then rushed back to help rescue the rest of the family.  My heart breaks for little Omran, but people need to know this happens every day. Every day we rescue children and families. Every day I meet parents traumatised from losing a child or even not being able to find the body under the rubble. But this time it was caught on camera.  To be honest while I care about Omran, Samir or Ahmad, I care about all the massacres that are happening. I care about all the children of Aleppo. I care that we stop these Russian and Regime bombs.  This was written shortly after the event. We have tried to recontact Bibars Halabi, but have been unable to due to the current Russian and Syrian army offensive  One of our photographers had been reading reports in Nice Matin that local police had given out the first “burkini ban” fines, so he decided to head to the beach the next morning. As most of the world already knows, there has been a lot of controversy in France on the subject: authorities in 15 towns had banned burkinis, citing public concern following recent terrorist attacks in the country.  The police fined the woman and asked her to remove parts of her clothing. She left the beach minutes later  It was another hot summer’s day and the beach was packed with punters. On arrival, he spotted police fining a woman in Muslim dress, and just 50m away, he could see another woman who hadn’t been fined yet – so he set up his camera and waited. It all took no more than five minutes – the police walked over, gave the woman in blue a fine and asked her to remove parts of her clothing. She left the beach minutes later.  There were reports that beachgoers were shouting support or abuse that day, but that’s not what our photographer heard or saw – he says the atmosphere was totally relaxed as the police wandered around.  I can’t say what I feel about it personally, as it’s important to remain impartial in our profession, but the photographer didn’t feel the police were heavy handed. What’s interesting to me is how the images are being used: are the police abusing their power, or is this woman disobeying the law?  We knew it was going to be hot at the final race of the triathlon world championships. Cozumel is in the tropics and the heat always adds a layer of unpredictability. But the sea was so warm – 28C or 29C. When we came out of the water there was a stop with ice cold drinks. I’ve never seen that before in a race. It’s unheard of.  We got on the bikes and pushed hard to create a leading group of about 10 riders. It was perfect for us. We got off the bikes and started running. With 4km to go, Jonny kicked and looked very easy doing it.  We went round a corner with 500m to go and up ahead I could see Jonny begin to struggle a bit. That’s OK, it was only 500m and he had a big gap. Then there was the final corner and with 200m to go I saw Jonny stumble into one of the officials.  I don’t really know why I stopped to help him. It was just a reaction. It was pure instinct. I put my arm around him. I knew straight away it was heat exhaustion. I kept telling him what an effing idiot he was as I kept us running to the line, because I knew that’s where the doctors were. It was only as we headed to the finish that I started to think if I got him across the line in second he might still have enough points to win the 2016 world triathlon championship.  After we’d crossed the line I started thinking about the rule implications. People began lodging complaints. A jury was called in. And all this was happening while Jonny was in intensive care. It wasn’t until the next morning and I turned on my phone that I saw the enormous scale of the response. It was incredible and so positive. But I’m never going to let him forget he owes me one.  I came across the work of architect Gaetano Pesce several years ago and have been hugely inspired by all of his work, but in particular his Project for a Door. It’s the perfect statement on what is so terribly conservative about the city and spaces around us. Can you imagine the provocation it would cause?  It has been problematic that the piece is referred to as the ‘Golden Bottom’. The model was Asian, he is not ‘golden’  My work matches Gaetano’s own commitment to new technologies as it was 3D-scanned from a live model. It was painted by Sue Day, who has worked for Madame Tussauds and so her way of working is almost forensic.  And here I have to say that it has been really very problematic the piece, at Tate, being referred to as the “Golden Bottom”. It’s not a trophy to be had. The model was Asian, he is not “golden”. Fact always over fiction.  There has been a difference between the reception of this work in New York [where it first appeared at the SculptureCenter in Long Island] and in London. The cities are formed by different rules and types of humour. Also, Gaetano’s version was from the early 1970s, a time of iconic and singular imagery. The plethora of selfies now speaks of the difference. Images are very much “Insta” – you take it, share it and move on to the next experience rather than pore over it analytically. We mark ourselves in front of the Eiffel Tower, or Niagara Falls, or the butt, to say “We were there, we passed through that moment.”  An art work as barometer: the power of the image Gaetano Pesce first asserted being as important to share as an ideology as a giant butt.  Race, gender, class and the future of the monarchy – the profound questions of British identity as the nation faces existential post-Brexit change. So news of Prince Harry’s new girlfriend, Meghan Markle, was the perfect opportunity for the papers to showcase their nuanced grasp of these sensitive issues.  ‘Straight Outta Compton!’ said the Mail: a racist message but just short of saying so  “Harry’s New Hottie!” – the Sun. But the thing that stood out most for me were the descriptions of a “saucy brunette”, a woman “not in the society blonde style” of Harry’s relationships past.  What was that supposed to mean? I had to look up the Suits actor myself, and when I did, the penny dropped. Markle is black.  The press displayed pictures of her mother – an African American “complete with dreadlocks”. “Straight Outta Compton!” said the Mail. It was a case of flaunting a racist message – How could a brown girl with a dreadlocked mother from Compton ever be fit to become a British princess? – but stopping just short of saying it, to avoid allegations of racism.  I spelled it out for the prejudice it was in the Guardian, and was told by other commentators that I was the one bringing race into the equation. But Harry agreed with me. A few days later, Kensington Palace took the remarkable step of publishing a statement condemning the dog-whistle slurs of the British press.  Somebody phoned me and said they’d just seen my image on the Childline advert. It was very upsetting – with the killer clown image being thrashed out all over the media, it was being picked up by all of the internet sites just about everywhere. My picture appeared on two American sites promoting killer clowns and last year on BBC Essex.  I ended up phoning Childline and getting brushed off by a very irate person who insisted that I was too old, and I had to explain: “I’m not phoning up because I’m a child.” We eventually got to the bottom of it and managed to get it to stop.  The killer clown craze raised the profile of clowning, but definitely not for the best. There are a lot of people who have lost jobs because of it. People cancel because they don’t want clowns. If I met these killer clowns I would have more than just strong words with them…  It’s basically young men fuelled by testosterone or alcohol out to get five minutes of fame on social media. It’s got nothing to do with clowning at all. We clowns are here to entertain, to make people laugh and not to scare the pants off anyone. I’m hoping that most people can see the difference between an idiot in a scary rubber mask and a clown with a costume and make-up that looks really good.  We didn’t know we were going to win that day in the High Court. As the judgement started to be read out, one of my lawyers, who was sitting behind me, sent a text saying: “You’d better write something now!” The only piece of paper I had in my handbag was a really scrappy one. A friend saw me on telly and sent a text saying: “Gina, is that really the only bit of paper you could find?” It didn’t matter, I just spoke from the heart.  I didn’t ever envisage, when I was made chief claimant against the government, what would happen over the following few months, and that I would become the focus of a lot of anger. And that’s fine, but what I don’t appreciate is how this has changed us as a nation. In the 18 months surrounding the referendum, we’ve undone all the advances we’d made with regard to diversity and tolerance over the past 40 years. We’re back to where we were in the 60s.  We need to take the heat and emotion out of the Brexit debate. We’ve got to have the best brains, hearts and minds taking us through this. This is not the time for hysteria. We have to have a strategy. We need to talk about realities.  I feel sad for everybody that’s come to England and made it their home. We were the envy of the world: a tolerant, inclusive melting pot that made us all better. That’s not the case any more.  I’m at the point where my family and I can’t go out. We spend a lot of time at home. It’s just preparation as I do think we’ll win, but the fallout will be enormous.  Nigel Farage stuck his neck out for Donald Trump during the election and three days after the vote Steve Bannon, his chief strategist, invited him to Trump Tower to say thank you. We didn’t expect to see the president-elect. No one outside the campaign had seen him. But there were 30,000 protesters outside so we were locked in for several hours. I met Kellyanne Conway, his campaign manager, in a corridor and she said: “Shall we go and see the president?” It was as simple as that.  Trump joked: ‘Nigel, do you think Brexit or my election was bigger?  We took a private lift to the 55th floor. Trump opened the door and said, “There he is!” and gave Nigel a bear hug. He joked, “Nigel, do you think Brexit or my election was bigger?” He was totally relaxed. We sat in his lounge for 90 minutes, talking about everything and anything. Nigel and Trump shared battle stories. Only they know what it’s like to be attacked and abandoned and to come out the other side. It’s a lonely place.  As we were leaving Nigel and Trump were at the door and I said: “I have to capture this moment.” I took the picture on my iPhone. It’s unique. It’s two happy men realising what they’ve achieved against all odds. They’ve made 2016 a remarkable year and probably changed the course of political history. It’s one of those historic moments you’ll look back on and say: “Did I really take that picture?”  We were silent in the lift going down. None of us could quite believe we’d spent time with the president-elect. I showed Nigel the picture and he said, “Oh my goodness. What are people going to think?” I said you have to Tweet it. He said yes and pressed the “send” button.  It’s become very valuable. We’re donating the money we make from it to a veterans’ charity, Care After Combat. A copy signed by Nigel raised £10,000 at an auction. Someone has offered £150,000 if both men sign it.  The term “supermoon” is something that astronomers aren’t terribly happy with as it came from an astrologer and it doesn’t really mean very much. The correct astronomical term is perigee-syzygy – perigee meaning the closest the Earth comes to the moon in its orbit and syzygy when three bodies are in a line in a gravitationally bound system – in this case the sun, moon and Earth, in that order.  I was at home on the night, but for an astronomer who does a lot of photography the full moon isn’t the best time to take photos as it washes out a lot of the galaxies surrounding it, and also we lose various other things to the moon’s glare, including the Leonid meteor shower which peaked around the same time.  That night I was photographing the moon via my garden’s large telescope and in particular the very edge of it as shadows are created and you can begin to see details of the moon’s surface that you can’t see normally. As it’s so bright, my plan was to take pictures of the moon in sections. I ended up with a really high-resolution image of the moon made up of nearly 50,000 images.  The end result had sharp bits and less sharp bits because the atmospheric conditions varied so much. Although this year’s moon was large, the moon that we will get on the 2 January 2018 will actually appear much larger.  After the election we were all very despondent. It felt like a tragic outcome. I had been downtown and Bill, Hillary, Chelsea and Mark were all in the grocery store, picking up their Thanksgiving dinner.  When I spotted Hillary, I went up and introduced myself. I told her how much we admired the campaign and how she was undiminished in our hearts. She made this really sweet, sad happy face and gave me a hug and we took a picture, and she said: “Don’t be discouraged and never give up.”  I had a chance to tell Hillary what I think a lot of people would have wanted to tell her, and I posted the picture thinking it would make people feel better. It got half a million likes, and was picked up by the New York Times, Vanity Fair and Gawker.  In the pictures, Hillary looks a little different because she’s not wearing make-up. A lot of people have said she looks so tired and sad. But, no, I don’t agree. She was so happy to be surrounded by her family. Chelsea came up with her baby, Aiden, and after a while Hillary said, “OK, I need to get into grandma mode now,” and she picked up the baby and left.
From Bowie to Brexit, and street protests to sporting glory, it has been a year of unforgettable events. Those closest to the action recall these memorable moments