He settles down into his chair in a room in one of London’s swankiest hotels. It’s the sort of place which, if you were foolish enough to ask the price of a room (or even the price of a drink in its famed American Bar) the likelihood is you would not have the cash to stay there.
Sir Tom Courtenay looks at ease, but The Savoy is clearly not one of his regular stomping grounds. He’d obviously far rather be at home in Putney with his wife Isabel (whom he met while working at the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester) or on a film set somewhere, or maybe on the stage. And he doesn’t use that title much, either.
“I thought that when I was knighted it might lead to a few more parts,” he sighs. “It hasn’t.”