In 1997, shortly before she acquired notoriety by flouncing – drunk and cursing – from a live TV show about the Turner prize, and two years before she failed to win a Turner with My Bed, I interviewed Tracey Emin over coffee at her council flat in Waterloo about the nocturnal and nutritional ups and downs of her weekend.

On Friday she'd received a call from Germany announcing she had won her first ever prize, then celebrated at Wolfgang Tillmans' opening until 4am, before returning home to snooze on the sofa, feeling "terrible and depressed" until 3pm. Yet she'd arisen to ink I Used To Have Such a Good Imagination (her classic sketch of a woman masturbating), before drinking lagers – while discussing hangovers – with art critic Carl Freedman and artist Liza May Post. She'd then cycled to deliver her video Why I Never Became a Dancer to Mat Collishaw, then visited Georgina Starr's for vodka martinis.

From Starr's roof she saw Gary Hume and Georgie Hopton having a barbecue, so went round there. Then Angus Fairhurst and Gregor Muir arrived and everyone drank and danced "to Gary's very bad CD collection" until 4am, while discussing "vintage cars, crazy golf and masturbation".

Cycling home at twilight, Emin thought London "the most wonderful place in the world". After a "two-second sleep" she quaffed a Red Bull en route to swimming 40 lengths, then was picked up to go play "a lesbian in a mod suit in John Maybury's film about Francis Bacon, drinking fake beer but smoking countless cigarettes".

During a break in shooting Emin was served a Sunday dinner. "That was fabulous, actually," she enthused, "and the first I'd had for a year and a half."