The Times Magazine 31aul Hollywood says it so quickly,
I have to ask him to repeat it. And
when he repeats it, I am so baffled
he has to say it again.
“Lego,” he says. “I made a lot
of Lego models in lockdown – that
was my therapy.”
I try to picture Hollywood
on the floor of his Kent mansion,
tongue lolling in concentration,
fiddling with the colourful little bricks. And
then I think he must’ve been playing with his
son, Josh. But Josh is 20 and wants to be a DJ.
No, Hollywood played by himself. First he
built a replica of a Ducati motorbike, then a
scale model of the Colosseum in Rome, then
the Titanic, then the Batmobile.
“Lego has changed,” says the 56-year-old
slightly defensively. “It’s for grown-ups now.
I put the Titanic and Colosseum in the
garage. I gave the Batmobile to a friend’s son.”
The more he describes it, the more it makes
sense. Hollywood needed something quiet and
methodical to do to take his mind off things.
“I’d been hitting the press quite badly.
Lockdown gave me the opportunity to step
back and do a lot of thinking. Lego’s what
I did with my hands. Inside, I did a lot of
work on myself.”
Welcome to the Zen, slightly embattled
world of Great British Bake Off judge Paul
Hollywood. We are sitting in the Chequers
Inn, a 14th-century pub near his home in
Smarden, rural Kent. If you think the bunting-
clad GBBO marquee is quaintly British, this
village is on another level. The narrow lanes
are overlooked by ancient, higgledy-piggledy
beamed houses that look like partially
collapsed gateaux. There are walled gardens
and signs advertising the annual Duck Race.
The Chequers itself doesn’t have bedrooms but
“bedchambers” and is supposedly haunted by
the 18th-century highwayman Dick Turpin.
Hollywood is sitting next to a suit of armour.
“Believe me, I could have done with one
of those myself the past few years,” he says.
During lockdown, as well as Lego he
enjoyed baking and cooking and watching a
lot of TV. But outside is where the trouble has
been. Despite social distancing restrictions,
Hollywood has had a lot of unwanted callers.
“The paps [paparazzi] didn’t care about
the rules – they still came to my house. They
waited on the drive till I took the bins out
and then it was, ‘Oi, Hollywood, you c***!’
or, ‘You scouse t***!’ They need you to look
up. What they really want is to get the angry
shot. Well, I wouldn’t give it to them. And
one time I caught the abuse on my doorbell
camera and gave it to the police. They told the
photographer if he came back he’d be arrested.”
It’s 12 years since The Great British Bake Off
became a hit, making the original BBC line-up
of Paul Hollywood, Mary Berry, Mel Giedroycand Sue Perkins huge stars. It was perfect
comfort viewing in the face of austerity and
emerging global anxieties; Islamic State were
beginning their rampage and Brexit murmurs
were growing louder. Hollywood remembers
filming the first episode in Somerset. Fellow
judge Mary Berry was ironing one of
Hollywood’s shirts at the hotel. Neither of
them was convinced the concept would work.
“To be honest, we both had doubts, as
did Mel and Sue. I mean, baking in a tent?
Bunting? Against the big brash reality shows
like The X Factor or Britain’s Got Talent, it
wasn’t obvious. I wasn’t the only one saying,
‘How’s that going to work?’ ”
But three million viewers grew to a peak
of ten million and, suddenly, Hollywood,
the blue-eyed silver fox, was a star.
He really is very handsome. Those eyes
are unreal. He reminds me of Paul Newman,
though perhaps after a night locked in a
doughnut factory. And with a Wirral accent.But that’s the problem. Paul Hollywood says
he just doesn’t like being famous.
“I’m a baker. I’m a good baker. Before
GBBO I was supplying Harrods and Waitrose
and quite happy. And don’t get me wrong,
I love the work I do, but it shouldn’t be about
me. It’s not in my DNA to be famous. I just
provide a bit of structure – it’s really about
the contestants and their journey.”
Hmmm. All his interviews have this bit
where he’s just a regular guy with a tray of
buns caught in the limelight. To an extent
it’s true. He is a nice guy. He’s amiable and
easygoing and treats everyone around him
nicely. Even the woman who has appeared
with a mop and bucket to scrub the pub floor.
Hold on, wait a minute – Hollywood seems
to be giving her the eye. And now he’s blazing
the megawatt smile as she brings us coffee.
Hollywood leans in confidentially.
“That’s my girlfriend, by the way,” he says.
Melissa Spalding is the landlady of the
Chequers. And while she mops and humps
crates we sit in her dining room and discuss
the, er, “Hollywood lifestyle”.
Because, like it or not, Paul Hollywood
isn’t just a baker. GBBO is now syndicated
around the world and Hollywood has been
stopped and asked for a handshake in
Alabama in the American south, in Brazil
and Japan. And the reason why this village
and the Chequers are his refuge and Spalding
is his girlfriend forms part of a tumultuous
personal journey.
“There is no school that tells you how
to deal with being in the public eye. And
however much you think you’re not going
to change, it’s impossible to stay the same.
I defy anyone to do it.”
Thirteen years ago, Hollywood was a
successful baker. He had a wife, Alex, whom
he met while working at a hotel in Corfu in
the Nineties. They were happy together for
12 years and had Josh.
“Alex cooks and I bake. That’s why it works
so well,” he told Kirsty Young on Desert Island
Discs in 2015. But at that point they’d already
had a break after Hollywood had an affair
with fellow judge Marcela Valladolid while
filming the US version of GBBO (it was called
The American Baking Competition) in 2013.
They tried again but, by 2017, the marriage
was over. Alex Hollywood’s social media
announcement was sassy and unequivocal:
“My own marriage was too overseasoned with
extramarital affairs for my taste and so I opted
out and chose the single menu instead,” she
said, although she also compared the feelings
around their break-up with a bereavement.
Hollywood soon began a relationship with
a barmaid 30 years his junior from another
local pub. That went badly wrong in 2019.
There was even an unseemly legal dispute
over who owned a £25 bucket the pair hadP
‘Mary and I both had
doubts. I mean, baking
in a tent? How’s that
going to work?’
In the GBBO tent with Noel Fielding and Prue LeithWith, from left, Mel Giedroyc, Mary Berry and Sue PerkinsALAMY, PA