Schumacher was a cocky diva

I had been a Formula One driver at Williams for all of 10 seconds – stammering, holding back tears and thinking, I’ve got to tell Mum and Dad – when suddenly Ralf Schumacher bustled into the room, took up position opposite Frank Williams and pulled his best diva face.

“I’m not coming in tomorrow if the car isn’t waiting for me,” he pouted.

I was thinking: “B----- hell, you can’t speak to Frank like that.” But Frank’s equilibrium was undisturbed as Ralf continued, giving it the full Mariah Carey.

“I mean it. I mean it, Frank. If the car’s not waiting outside the hotel for me, or if it’s late, I’m not coming in. I’m not going to test.”

“We’ll make sure it’s there for you tomorrow,” said Frank, unruffled, and Ralf was about to flounce out, toys successfully jettisoned, when Frank added, “More importantly, Ralf, I’ve chosen Jenson as the second driver.”

Ralf looked at Frank and then at me. “Yeah, I know,” he said imperiously.

Whether Ralf really did know or was just being a cocky b------, who can say? Either way, it was a strange way to start a relationship with a team-mate.

Ralf always came across as a bit insecure to me, as though he feared he was being usurped.

He never quite treated me as an equal, which might have been my age or the language barrier.