NIGHT THIS OLD ACTION MAN FIRST MET HIS SOUTH AFRICAN QUEEN

PEOPLE rarely see me as a romantic. Not old action man Brian Blessed, always fighting people and climbing mountains.

So they are incredulous when they learn I am 36 years into a blissfully happy marriage.

The starting point was back in 1968, when I was cast in a play for ITV called Double Agent alongside Leonard Rossiter. One of the only two female roles was to be played by a young, upcoming actress named Hildegard Neil. Until then, I had never once been distracted by a woman’s beauty. Attracted, yes, but no more. But Hildegard was different.

She thought nothing of me at first. From being regulars on TV, Rossiter and I had this swagger that verged on being cocky. 'You're very fond of yourselves, aren’t you?' she said. ‘But I know at least ten acto could actors who you two off the stage.’ We were speechless! But she was right. I watched from a distance, struck by her cheekbones and the colour of her eyes. It was a continuous round of discovery

Then I learned that she’d been born and

brought up in South Africa. That’s it, I said. She’s African. I’d never been a fan of the English rose type. This South African queen was what I liked.

And she liked me a bit, as we spent time together and began to develop a very close relationship. It was thoughtful, frank and gentle — but strictly platonic.

We’d have dinner, and she would smile at me provocatively, as if to say: ‘You haven’t got the confidence to make a move, have you, Brian?’ She was dead right again.

And so nothing happened. We drifted apart and I didn’t see her again for years, only watched her, like everyone else, on television and cinema screens.

But fast forward to 1974, and I was cast with her in a children’s TV series called Boy Dominic. ‘How are you, Brian? Long time no see,’ she said when we met up at the studio. It turned out we lived not far from each other, and I took to driving her to and from work. We talked endlessly, just seeming to spark each other off.

A mesmerising friendship started up again. But where was it going? Nowhere, I told myself. How could this gorgeous, clever, talented creature ever love me?

Then one day she said out of the blue: ‘You’ve never asked me about my love life, Brian? Aren’t you interested?’ I stuttered: ‘Yes, I’m interested . . .’ And she laughed.

It turned out she was married, but unhappily so, and the marriage itself was dead. To me, this was a licence to come clean and declare my intentions. ‘I went to see my dad,’ I told her, ‘and I confided in him that I’d found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.’ She looked genuinely surprised. ‘Who is it, Brian, if you don’t mind me asking?’ This is it, Blessed, I thought. Come on, see it through! ‘It’s you, of course!’ She didn’t respond straight away, but a few days later she told me she felt the same. We went to dinner and just sat staring at each other across the table.

‘Is there anything wrong with the food, Mr Blessed?’ a waiter asked. Half in a daze, I whispered: ‘We’re too in love to eat.’

We’ve been together ever since. Hildegard Neil was and still is my reason for living.