I very nearly killed myself yesterday.

Jennifer too.

I fell asleep at the wheel.

I had a momentary blackout and woke to find myself heading towards a clump of trees at 100 km/hr.

I instinctively corrected.

The tyres screeched.

My car made some kind of alert sound that I’d never heard before.

I slowed down, pulled over and had a nap.

But it scared the living crap out of me.

We’d come off a flight from Lisbon, driven two hours to the Hunter Valley to do location surveys for next week’s Australian shoot for The Way, Her Way, and we were driving three hours home to Mudgee.

I thought I was fine.

I didn’t realise how exhausted I was.

I’m 73 years old and am into my ninth year with Parkinson’s disease.

After this film I still have at least two more films to make before I hang up my director’s viewfinder.

So I should make every effort to stay alive.

As Anna says in The Way, Her Way:

Stupid, stupid, stupid.