Griff Rhys Jones, 68, comedian and TV presenter, shares memories of Hartland Road, Epping, Essex

My father Elwyn was a doctor so we moved around a bit, but the address I remember best was White Lodge, a four-bedroom house on Hartland Road, Epping, where I lived from eight to 18. We moved to Essex from Midhurst, Sussex, and when I started at my Epping junior school, my posh accent made me a target so I had to drop my aitches to avoid being punched in the face. 

My father was also an expert carpenter. He built dolls’ houses, boats, puppet theatres and treehouses. 

I can’t bang in a nail straight, so I am an expert employer of carpenters. My mother Gwynneth, who’s about to turn 98, was exceptionally good at cooking comfort food such as pies, puddings and cakes. 

I was the indulged middle child of three, as is probably all too apparent. I’ve got an older brother, William, and a younger sister, Helen. 

I loved to play in the back garden which had apple trees and an old World War II concrete bomb shelter, a source of endless fascination. 

My dad also had a boat that could just about fit us all on board, as long as we were stacked like bodies in a morgue. I’ve been a keen sailor ever since. 

During the holidays I hardly saw my parents. My pals and I would ride our go-karts and bikes at breakneck speed down steep roads. 

We’d also wander deep into Epping Forest, digging ‘elephant traps’ which we’d cover with twigs and leaves. 

Griff with his mother Gwynneth and sister Helen at White Lodge, a four-bedroom house where he lived from the age of 8 until he was 18

My father came from a strongly Welsh Presbyterian background and was keen on education and bettering oneself. I was marked as the bright one and won a place at Brentwood School, a direct-grant grammar school with a mix of kids, from quite posh, like Douglas Adams [late author of The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy], to those who grew up in two-up two-downs. 

The only bullying I can recall at the school came from the masters who wanted us to excel – but their efforts paid off because I’m always hearing about fellow pupils who became professors and that sort of thing. I was too good a boy to ever get caned myself. 

When we reached the Sixth Form my friends and I became cocks of the walk. We put on fur coats and granny glasses and went to the Wake Arms pub in Epping where we saw everyone from Black Sabbath to Status Quo to Uriah Heep – they all did the pub circuit back then. 

Every now and then we’d go to the Roundhouse in London and catch the likes of Pink Floyd, despite it taking forever to get in on the Central Line. 

I was in the odd school drama production but rehearsals were after lessons and I lived a 35- minute drive away. One night my mother couldn’t pick me up because of fog so the headmaster, a cynical old stick I rather admired, reluctantly put me up at his house. 

I reckon he subsequently went to the drama teacher and told him that ‘under no circumstances was this boy to play any demanding parts’ in case he was required to provide me with accommodation again, so I had to wait until university before I got the chance to shine on stage. 

When I went off to Cambridge I was desperate to escape suburbia, but looking back I have a real nostalgia for those quiet streets – and while I’m proud of my Welsh roots, I’ll always be an Essex boy.

• Griff’s Canadian Adventure, Saturday, 9pm, Channel 4.