My dad told me on his deathbed that if he could have his life over again, he wouldn't change a single thing. I sharply reminded him of the holiday in Porthcawl in the sixties when he slipped in a huge dog turd and ended up throwing a perfectly good pair of suede shoes in the litter bin on the seafront. As I pointed out to him, surely to God he wouldn't want to go through that again. Needless to say, he had no answer to that, and died a few seconds later.