"My mother worked for Erna Low, the pioneer of skiing packages in this country. Before that, we used to have pretty miserable holidays in Herne Bay, staying at boarding houses, but Erna threw glamorous house parties in Cornwall, which she invited us to, and which seemed very exotic to a young lad.

My mother became a ski leader, taking the tours, so we got to go to the slopes. Unfortunately, very early on in my skiing career, fuelled by young-teen hubris, I launched myself down a virgin slope and hit a rock. And broke my leg.

It really dented my confidence, and I was teased at school because I walked with a cane. My cricket, which was just coming on, suffered, and I didn’t ski again for years. Then, not too long ago, I went with my sons to Switzerland, to a small, uncrowded village near Gstaad, and had a marvellous time. I get it now – I was all lanky, flailing limbs as a kid, but now I understand how you make the muscles work. I found it exhilarating.

Like Erna Low, my mother was a refugee from Vienna who left before the war. There was a network of them, a diaspora all over the world. Most of those who left Austria and went to, say, Czechoslovakia or Hungary didn’t survive, but there were others in France, Britain, Canada and beyond who did, and my mother kept in touch.

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I was sent to visit one of her friends in Versailles as a lad, my first flight. Nobody told me what to expect – when I saw the flaps on the wings moving, I was convinced we were going to crash. I think that’s why I’m still apprehensive about flying today.

I enjoyed Paris a great deal, but a later French exchange with a boy called François was disastrous. We didn’t get on. But what he did have was Ray Charles records, which in 1958 put him well ahead of the game. I loved them and love jazz still, so I have to thank him for that.

I love trains – I can get excited about a rail journey from the moment I hit the station, which isn’t something I can say about airports. I worked in Japan recently, and, although I flew out there, I decided that, when my wife joined me, we’d get the train back, the Trans-Siberian Express. So I organised a boat to Vladivostok and the rail to Moscow.

I think my wife thought it was going to be like the Orient Express, which it isn’t. It’s something of an endurance test. It’s not comfortable, the food isn’t that appetising, and the lady seemed reluctant to serve it, anyway; when it ran out, she refused to replenish at the various stops. And the scenery is quite monotonous. But part of me thoroughly enjoyed it. It was like convalescing: you read, you napped, you looked forward to a series of small events. I read Doctor Zhivago, which seemed appropriate and was wonderful.

I found Moscow a hard city, harder even than Tokyo. In Japan, the people go out of their way to help you; in Russia, it appears they go out of their way to make you lose your temper, which is when they finally start taking you seriously. Very wearing. But I’m glad I have seen both cities, and Kyoto, which is marvellous: much less pressured than Tokyo, with lovely temples and gardens.

Like all actors, I’m wary about booking long holidays in case a job comes up you can’t refuse. It’s ridiculous – you find yourself praying you won’t get any work. I did book a three- or four-week one to the USA with the family once, to Vegas, Death Valley, Los Angeles. Wonderful trip, and, of course, I’d gone through all that anxiety about work. However, I’d gone for one audition just before I left, so I thought I ought to check up while I was away.

It was before mobile phones, and I had to call my agent from a pay phone in Yosemite. Then he told me I’d got the part of Owen in The Vicar of Dibley. Now, for an actor, that’s a pretty perfect situation, knowing you’ve got a job when you come back from a really great family holiday.

What’s next? Well, from where I live, I can catch a bus from the end of the road to King’s Cross and be on a train to Paris in no time. Now that really is exciting, I can’t wait to try that."

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