Steel Wheels kicked off and all rumours of a Stones break-up that were floating about were quashed. We played seventy dates and everyone who saw the show agreed that no band had ever done anything like it. Steel Wheels/Urban Jungle had left us flush with money and our reputation restored.

Consistent with my extravagant nature, it was time to spend. Jo and I were invited on a trip to Ireland. The idea was to find a place to rent so that we could ease the tax bills. We ended up in County Kildare, just outside a village called Clane, at a house called Sandymount. We decided to buy it rather than rent it after spending just one night there. The studio became a focal point. In Sandymount I could make the music I wanted, away from the chains of London and studio bosses. I made Slide on This there and the studio hosted a bevvy of musical greats. Ireland became a home away from home for me. We were all riding high off the back of Steel Wheels.

Our manager negotiated a major deal with Virgin Records for three new albums and the band's back catalogue; I brought out Slide on This; Keith brought out his second solo album, Main Offender; and Mick brought out his third solo album, Wandering Spirit. I played four solo concerts in Japan and Keith went on tour with his X-Pensive Winos, becoming the first of us to play South America. He filled a football stadium in Argentina with 40,000 fans. By the time Voodoo Lounge ended, we had played in twenty-six countries, in front of more than 6.5 million people and grossed $320 million. I had my slice of the pie and even if it wasn't as big as Mick's and Keith's it was enough to make me believe that I would never be broke again.

We went right into planning our next tour, Bridges to Babylon. We staged the announcement of our tour under the Brooklyn Bridge, on the Brooklyn side, with Manhattan as our backdrop. The press conference was broadcast live on television and online. There was a huge screen set up next to the stage, and the 300 waiting journalists and photographers suddenly saw a helicopter view of a red 1955 Cadillac convertible coming across the bridge, with a police escort. Mick was driving and Keith was sitting next to him. Charlie and I were in the back seat, throwing CDs to the crowds lining the streets.

My artwork was progressing almost as well as the Stones tours. We figured out that if we put my work into galleries in cities where the Stones were appearing, it would really help sales. I came back from those two years on the road, paid off all my debts and we bought our house in Kingston. A beautiful home appropriately named Holmwood. We've been at Holmwood nearly ten years now. Every corner of the house is filled with artefacts we've collected over the years, and Jo has transformed it into an opulent yet functional family home. She planted a huge organic vegetable patch and fills the rest of the garden with summer parties. I can get down to work any time of the day or night because I had a studio built in the basement and turned the old garage into my art studio. Everything was going great. I had a beautiful family, a magnificent band, great art, a bit of cash and a new home. It's always when everything is going well that I screw things up. I invested in a club. The concept that would make the Harrington Club unique was that we were going to create a place where members could hang out all day and all night. Money was leaking everywhere for 3 or so years and the club was draining my accounts. The Stones were just starting to put together our Forty Licks tour, so I had to go to them to borrow a million dollars just to stay afloat. I sacked my manager took note of my spiralling debt and hired my son Jamie as my manager. Gradually, he saved us £2 million a year. He also stopped me lending money to people who came to me when they were desperate. I just couldn't say no to anyone, even the blatant freeloaders. Jamie's solution was: 'I can.