Hats never stay on me. I have a funny-shaped head. I’ve always believed that when I was small, my brother threw a brick at me and it flattened the back of my head, so it’s not the right shape for hats.
My father is a shadow. He died when I was six; when I think of him, I just see a shape. He was a myth to me. I know stuff about his life [he was the Trinidadian politician Basil Kydd] and death, but I can’t see a full person. When I had children myself, it meant I had to make up what being a father was.
Nobody imagined Death in Paradise would last this long or be so popular. We’re about to air our 100th episode. If I knew the secret of its appeal, I’d bottle it.
The Queen had a perfect way of getting rid of people. When I got an MBE in 2008, there was a line of us and as we met the Queen, a man standing behind her leant over and whispered something. She said a few words to me, then shook my hand and gently pushed it away, so I knew my time was up. I thought that said something about the English. They’re very direct in the most wonderfully polite way. You couldn’t object to it.
Diversity in the acting profession has improved but not sufficiently. The day when you see people of colour on TV without feeling surprised, we’ll have got somewhere. At the moment, it still feels self-conscious.
The worst job I ever did was working as a kitchen porter. They used to find me asleep. I hated it so much, I’d just lie down and doze off in protest. It’s the ultimate resistance to anything. A physical response to boredom.
There’s no such thing as silence in the Caribbean. We think we know nature living in the UK but we don’t. The tropics are very noisy. Things are screaming and singing at you all the time.
I thought England would be golden and bright. A kind of Narnia. We emigrated from Trinidad to Newcastle when I was seven. Colonialism works by making you believe the streets are paved with gold in the “mother country”, so I was deeply disappointed at how dull this strange place was. I was the only black person in my school but survived by becoming, as best I could, a Geordie. That emotional adaptability may be why I became an actor.
Meditating is my happy place. It’s free and it works. Every morning before the day begins, I sit for half an hour in a straight-backed chair and meditate. It brings me peace.
If money was a priority, I wouldn’t be an actor. We see actors on film or television and tend to think they have a glamorous life, but it’s still a vagabond profession. You never know what tomorrow will bring. I like money, but know what it is not to have any.
I love the sound of the saxophone, but I’m not sure my neighbours do. When they see me in the street, they say things like, “I heard you playing last night.” I think to myself, “Are you saying stop?”
If I could have my time again, I’d try to be braver. Coming to this country as an immigrant, fear plays a big part in your life. And fear causes inaction.
Ageing is inevitable. Just try to do it with as much grace as you can. Numbers mean nothing. It’s about your spirit.
I used to get mistaken for Sidney Poitier. When I was younger, some white people couldn’t tell one black actor from another. They just saw a black face and thought of the only other popular black actor.
Indecision and procrastination are my worst habits. I always go: “Well, let’s see,” or, “Yeah, I’ll do it in a minute.” It’s that bridge between thought and action that costs me and makes me sweat.
I wasn’t proud of Rising Damp at the time, because I didn’t think I was funny. I saw myself as a very serious, soul-searching actor. I wanted to move people to tears, not make them laugh. I’ve learned better since.
Everybody’s broken the law. I certainly have. I’m not going to tell you how, but if you think about the 70s and early 80s, I’m sure you could guess.
Death in Paradise returns with its 100th episode on Sunday 4 February at 9pm on BBC One
