The singer, 54, talks about being back in leafy Surrey after years in LA, the secrets of a happy marriage and the hysteria of fame

I grew up in a rock’n’roll household. My dad, Chip, was a musician; my mum, Carol [Dilworth], was an actor and gameshow hostess. They were glamorous. They had famous friends. Our house was always party central.

Growing up with guitars propped in every corner – and a little recording studio – of the house meant that my brother, sister and I were never going to become accountants.

I was quite a precocious kid. I never had any other aspirations other than music, so I slightly rebelled at school. I wish I’d paid more attention. I left at 15 and learned my craft by playing pianos in pubs.

Buddy’s Song kickstarted my career. I starred with Roger Daltrey. Acting wasn’t what I wanted to do – I went for the part because I thought there might be a record deal at the end of it, which there was. I’d been sending cassettes of my songs to record labels and been turned down. The One and Only came from the soundtrack to the film.

When I performed on Top of the Pops my life became crazy. Suddenly, everywhere I went there was a gaggle of girls and paparazzi. The One and Only got to number one all over Europe and into the Top 10 in the States. Things turned upside down.

I understand when I see young artists have their exhaustion moment – I once went to seven countries in one day. Very instantly your life is not your own. You have success in different territories all at the same time and you have to go and visit them. My brother and I were away from home for two years.

I never really understood the hysteria of fame. I’d come face to face with a fan and they’d just scream in my face. Things are different now.

Once the record labels dropped me, I went off the rails. I drank and took drugs to escape the fact I thought I was a washed up has-been at 22. I closed the lid on my feelings, which wasn’t very healthy.

It was pretty instant when I met Krissy. She was 20, I was 22. She walked into a pub in Mortlake, London, near where I lived, to celebrate 4 July – she’s American. I asked if I could buy her a drink. She said, “I’ll have a pint of lager.” In my head I thought: “Marry me.”

Our secret? Spending time away from each other. It’s true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. But there are many other secrets. Communication is crucial: we don’t hide anything from each other.

My dad once said, “Don’t believe the hype – none of it’s real.” I didn’t really take that in at the time, but I do now, especially as I’m a father myself. Our kids are 23, 21 and 18 – they are what’s important in life.

I have no regrets. There are things in my career I’d have done differently but they don’t keep me up at night. I believe everything brings you to where you are.

I’m happy to be home. I’ve been living in the desert of LA for the past 12 years, but we’re now in leafy Surrey, near where I grew up. Life has come full circle. I used to do a paper round nearby.

We’ve not lived here long and every day is a blessing. You have to look at life that way and take it by the horns. That’s what age has done to me. I’m loving being in my 50s. I feel liberated. I’m having the time of my life.