I had my 15 minutes of being the new boy of pop, like lots of people before and after me. Overnight, everyone starts treating you differently, and perceives you differently.

I'd had my time in the charts and made loads of money. I was no longer hungry for success.

I used to go to soul nights because I loved dancing, and so did my friends, and we loved the music. We used to go listen to black American soul.

I was just burnt out. I didn't like the music business and I didn't like me. There's an element of falseness about the whole thing. Even things like doing an interview. It's not as though we just met in the pub and are having a chat - it's part of a process. If you do it all day, every day for years, you end up thinking: 'Who the hell am I?' I was lucky enough to make some money, enough to let me kick back. It was a great experience and it was nice to have a couple of No.1s but the best thing about it was that the money I made allowed me to have freedom and choice in my life.

I do have a thing for eating out; that's one of life's great middle-age pleasures.

Working as a teaboy may have helped my confidence, but not everyone else was so pleased. I could never remember who had milk or how many sugars, and I had an unusual talent for spilling tea on the recording console.

Fame is not just about being able to get out of a limo in Leicester Square, it's about trying to get into your house when there are eight photographers outside. When you think about being famous, you don't think about all that stuff. You think about the glamour.