Near the end of the Second World War, I must have been about four, and we were in a canvas shelter in my house with my mother and father. The bombs were dropping and I was getting frightened and my mother cuddled me and said: “It’s all right, don’t worry, it’s only God moving his furniture around”, and that put me at ease I’ve never forgotten that, and every time there’s a thunderstorm I always remember it and it just calms me down.
As a young boy, humour was survival. I would have been about eight or nine when I met with a load of lads in a pretty tough area, and being very small and slight I had to work out how to not get beaten up. So I quickly observed that if you make somebody laugh, they’ll be more likely to become your friend than your enemy.
The attraction of acting is you hide your insecurity and your shyness by pretending to be somebody else. It can make you be bold, it can make you be tough and it can make you be romantic. It can make you be anything that you’re not.
From my very humble beginnings to winning Baftas, I’m constantly aware of all I’ve achieved. To come from a poor, working-class family to being knighted by the Queen for services to the theatre, that’s something I’m very proud of.
One of my greatest inspirations was Ronnie Barker. He gave me some of the best advice: “You are your own currency, spend it wisely.”
I think I was happiest when I was working on stage in the West End in a play called No Sex Please, We’re British. I had a little flat in London, not far from the theatre. I used to get through the morning, do a few chores, go and see friends, then I would make my way to the theatre and make a wonderful evening’s entertainment. There was nothing else to do but go to the theatre to make people laugh.
Anyone in the performing arts should not take themselves too seriously. You hear these stories about actors being grand and difficult, that’s the last thing you should do. You’ve got to enjoy it and you’ve got to make your audience enjoy it, too.
I started making models during the pandemic, when we were all trapped in our houses. I got a bit addicted to it. When I’m concentrating or working quietly on my own I like to listen to Gregorian chants. There’s something really nice and soothing about that.
Marriage is not always easy, but it can be fun. I’ve been very lucky that I’ve ended up living with somebody I really love and get on with.
When you’re much younger, getting older is great and fun – it gave me more confidence and responsibility. But I’ve been there and done that, so it’s not quite as much fun as it used to be.
I’d like to be remembered as he who couldn’t stop making people laugh, and in doing so made himself laugh.
This Time Next Year: A Life of Positive Thinking by Sir David Jason is published by Century at £22. Buy it for £19.80 from guardianbookshop.com
