It's a source of great sadness to me that my father died without having seen me do anything worthwhile. He was constantly having to make excuses for me.

I've only been reminded in the last few days constantly that I've let five years pass. I'm not being deliberately obtuse about it, but I wasn't aware of that time passing. I was quite happily engaged in other things. I set out to indulge my curiosity in other things, not just to get away from this work.

My main memories of my father are of his illness.

There must've been some part of me that wanted to make my mark. But there was never a defining moment.

One of the great privileges of having grown up in a middle-class literary English household, but having gone to school in the front lines in Southeast London, was that I became half-street-urchin and half-good-boy at home. I knew that dichotomy was possible.

When I did make the decision to focus on acting, I think my mother was just relieved for me that I had finally started to focus.