I am usually very good at waking up in the morning. I’m not one of those people who arises, as does my partner, Jim, with a low moan. I also have no routine. In fact, I make it a principle not to have a regular day and, thank God, I’ve never been subject to the hideous treadmill of clocking in and out, as was my poor father.
The one thing that is fixed, however, is breakfast, and it’s always the same: I have cooked ham, usually parma, a hard cheese, normally parmesan, and Ryvita, although I accept that it tastes like cardboard. First tea, then coffee. This routine is an absolute.
I get dressed to write and I always wear a pair of battered docksiders. I was born with double club feet, so I go for comfort. They were operated on when I was young, and I had 50 years of trouble-free existence. But at the age of 60, there were complications; one of the characteristics of corrected double club feet is you begin to lean very sharply to one side, and that requires an operation. But I carry on regardless…
We have a house in Highbury, north London. It’s a two-storey Victorian villa where I’ve lived by far the longest time in my life. Then 10 years ago, Jim and I bought a country house in Kent, because we wanted more space. We also wanted a big dog.
Ledger is a muscular chocolate labrador, and the only other routine in my life, apart from breakfast, is taking him out. And when it’s time for walkies, he is very good at highly articulated sighing, the look gets more Princess Diana, with head to one side and moist eyes — every tactic he can think of to get me to take him out. He particularly loves it when we’re in Kent because we can go for longer walks, and that’s terribly good for me too, with all the exercise I am now compelled to take.
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I used to be very moody. I have become much more equable... far less bad tempered and edgy. My temper now is very much a performance
When it comes to my writing, I like to sit at my desk — in Kent I have one in the library — and the only thing I feel obliged to do is get one paragraph done before lunch. Once I have done that, the rest just follows.
Lunch varies, but I do enjoy a glass of wine with my food. Then, one thing I need in the afternoon, usually after lunch, is a nap, particularly if I’m filming. When I’m doing a TV series, I’m generally always required to start very early and work until very late, so my PA will be under strict instructions to provide me with a hotel room during the day, where I can go to bed properly for two hours.
Life is good at the moment. I used to be very moody and, to be blunt, I think it was the result of a lack of success and control in my life. But now, by and large, I have been successful, and to a great extent I am in control, so I have become much more equable... far less bad tempered and edgy. My temper now is very much a performance.
If I’m at home in the evening, then I like cooking. My mother was a good, basic cook, and I picked up a lot from her. But I was also fortunate, because before going to Cambridge, I got a scholarship from the Quaker Society of Friends — my parents were Quakers — to go to France and improve my French. I had this lovely landlady called Madame Gabelou, who was also a brilliant cook, and she taught me everything.Madame Gabelou also had a son, who I remember lusting after. He was so very, very handsome, but he was also a lout, and she didn’t like him much. But being a bookish type, I was just the sort of son she would have wanted, so I found myself effectively becoming the honorary son… You can imagine the tensions that created. But because of her, I can cook practically anything. I have a recipe — dare I say it? — for a superbly good chestnut and pheasant soup.
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For bed, I wear pyjamas. They’re boring things from Marks & Spencer, and they’re definitely a sign of age. I was a plump teenager, but between being an undergraduate and a postgraduate, I had a dramatic loss of weight, and went from chubby to svelte. As a result, I looked OK without pyjamas and remained slim until I became fully partnered in my fifties. At that point the complacency of partnership set in and my waistline swelled. I decided then that my body was hideous and required covering up again.
I am not a great reader in bed — I find it rather uncomfortable. Luckily, I usually fall asleep very quickly, although I have a terrible habit of waking in the middle of the night. Sometimes I will potter around the house for a few hours, sometimes I will just sit and sip camomile tea, and utter profound thoughts to the dog, who is deeply puzzled, but tolerates it.
If I’m very wakeful, I deal with emails and that must seem very impressive to one’s associates who come in at 8am and find they’ve already had an email from Starkey — time-coded 5.30am. Of course, Starkey has gone back to bed, and is happily snoring away — in his M&S pyjamas.
David Starkey’s Magna Carta: The True Story Behind the Charter (Hodder & Stoughton, £18.99) is out now