Sir David Jason tried keeping a diary during lockdown but,
ultimately, he could only describe how bored he felt.
It was, he says, the first time in quite a while in his distinguished career that his “gravest fears” came true – the acting work dried up.
With the large amount of time on his hands he did something he usually tends to avoid for fear of getting nostalgic, he watched, well... himself, in BBC sitcom Only Fools and Horses.
Sir David, who played Del Boy Trotter in the show, says he finds dwelling too long on that time – one of the most enjoyable periods of his life, making a hit show with people he loved – can land him in a rabbit hole where he ends up morosely wishing he could do it all over again.
“Making Only Fools was fun, love and joy, and you think ‘Why aren’t I doing it now?’... I try not to get myself involved in an emotional crisis like that,” he explains. But, thumbs twiddling, he found himself watching the 1989 episode when Del falls through a wine bar hatch. And it had him in fits of giggles.
He says: “It gave me great joy. The hatch scene still makes me laugh out loud. Normally I’m very critical of what I do, I don’t enjoy watching very much. But that one just works.”
The 80-year-old’s usual resistance to dwelling on the past means “I do tend to live in the moment”, he explains.
His trick is to keep busy, be that with work – retirement is a firm no-go – or doing DIY at his Buckinghamshire home, where he lives with wife Gill and daughter Sophie, 19.
He was born David White in 1940, the son of a fishmonger. David, from North London, was an electrician and painter/decorator before becoming an actor.
His latest book – A Del of a Life: Lessons I’ve Learned – a wonderful collection of tales looking back through the decades, was written as he grew increasingly frustrated during lockdown.
It turns out he doesn’t much like the suggestion he’s in the winter of his life. When I mention the word mortality, I’m shut down. “You’re depressing me!” he protests.
To make his point, he demonstrates exactly how us young’uns wrongly characterise older generations.
He would know, he says, because he did it himself in his 30s in one of his earliest TV roles when he played Blanco, the ageing and doddery prisoner banged up with Ronnie Barker in 1970s sitcom Porridge.
In a nano-second, the brilliant actor grows frail before my eyes, his mouth becoming a gummy, toothless gurn, eyes rheumy with confusion. “Cor blimey, Fletch, what’s this all about? I can’t understand any of it,” he dodders.
He adds with a grin and a teasing sparkle in his eye: “I think you understand what I mean... sorry, what was your name again? The perception of being old when you’re young is vastly exaggerated.
“Age as far as I’m concerned is just a number. It’s not for all of us, unfortunately, but for most of us we’re still up there,” he gestures to his head. “And down there for dancing,” he adds, nodding to his feet.
Sir David is as vital as ever, still flying helicopters as a hobby, and this year passing his pilot’s licence test again with a clean bill of health.
“I have always been fascinated by flying, space research, all of that. Flying is a challenge to leave the earth, get wings, an escape,” he says. Writing his book has brought many memories to the surface, particularly of his time on Only Fools, which first aired in 1981.
He recalls how cast and crew, many of whom have now died, had a ball.
Some scenes were almost too funny to film. “The one I never forget is Nick Lyndhurst [who played Rodney Trotter] and myself dressed as Batman and Robin, sitting in the van waiting for the cameras to turn over,” he says.
“To look at Nick dressed as Robin trying to be serious, and me trying desperately to be serious, and the more serious Nick got the funnier he became – until in the end the director said ‘Listen, you’re contracted to be actors, control yourselves, stop laughing at yourselves!’.” Sir David, who also starred in shows such as A Touch of Frost, and Open All Hours, knows the role of Del Boy might easily have slipped through his fingers.
He believes he was only fifth in line to play the part – Jim Broadbent was among those ahead of 5ft 6in David, who was initially thought too short.
Another twist of fate is that Sir David had previously almost been cast in sitcom Dad’s Army instead.
He was promised the role of Lance Corporal Jones, before discovering Clive Dunn had landed it.
“That was a particularly hard disappointment,” Sir David says. “I hadn’t had that sort of break, so to find out I had the part, so overjoyed, and on the same day I found it had been cast behind my back...
“But on reflection, I don’t wish I could have been in it. Because I lost that job it made me available for everything else I did, in other words one of the biggest things that ever happened to me in television, being cast as Derek Trotter.” Yet at the height of the show’s popularity, Only Fools wasn’t all fun.
Sir David struggled with fame. “I was always very quiet to the point of being shy at school and afterwards.
“I got involved in amateur dramatics because it gave me an opportunity to pretend I was a different person, sometimes a person with a much stronger personality than me. I loved hiding myself in the character, so when people recognised me on the street it was rather embarrassing.” Until early this year, he had never accepted an invitation to attend a fan convention.
Some of the people there told him Only Fools had saved their lives, bringing them back from the edge in the darkest throes of depression.
“I realised that particular character has given people a lot more than I ever imagined was possible,” he says.
“I’m pleased to say there is more in me than just Derek Trotter. But I’m grateful for old Del and his mob.”
A Del of a Life: Lessons I’ve Learned, by David Jason is published by Century, hardback £20.
