Billy Ocean: My family values

My family lived in Trinidad until I was 10. There wasn't a lot of money, or a lot of food, or a lot of anything really. That's why they came to England – they were taking immigrants to do menial tasks, the things the English weren't too keen to do. For us, it was a chance.

My father was a calypso singer – a calypsonian, we call them. He wasn't very successful, but he inspired me to take it on. My mother used to sing as well – in that environment, where you didn't have much entertainment, we made our own. A lot of it came from going to church – my father was a Baptist.

The community in the Caribbean almost brought up the kids – it was like an extended family. Things were shared, and everyone looked after each other's kids. But in London, different wasn't the word! We'd lived on the border of a cocoa plantation, with acres and acres of land, so to come to the East End of London, you never really understood what was going on: buildings, cars, mayhem and cold, smog, fog.

My mother and father worked, so my eldest sister used to look after us. Everyone in the family had their work. In Trinidad, the boys did the outside jobs, like looking after the animals, and the girls did cleaning and cooking. In London, my role changed and I was the washing-up man. We'd have friends round and I'd have to wash and wash, and I used to hate it. To this day, I hate washing up.

Taking care of the family was a natural thing to do once I'd made it as a singer. One of my ambitions was to buy my mother a house, though she didn't have very long in it, five years, before she passed on.

I'm a qualified tailor, and the reason for that is my mother. She knew I loved music – I'd sing with her when she was ironing in the evening – and academically I wasn't very bright. So when I left school with no qualifications, she said I must take a course in something to fall back on. But when I made it, she was proud for me – when I was on Top of the Pops for the first time, she told all her friends.

I took a career break to raise my own kids and I'd do it again. You have kids once and if you miss that period, it never comes back again. My wife, Judy, and I have three children and there was so much to deal with, my wife couldn't do it all by herself. I'd been more successful than I ever imagined, and I remember sitting in a hotel in America and thinking: what am I doing here? So I took a break, maybe for longer than I thought. And now my daughter Cherie is one of my backing singers.

I think their mum is stricter than me. I'm the one who pours ashes on the fire; their mum is the fiery one. She deals with the discipline. But they don't get away with any nonsense from me – I'm from the Caribbean, it's in me to be relatively strict. But I'm a lot softer than my parents' generation.

I sometimes think about the baby we lost – a boy. But then we had another boy, so maybe he came back again. It was sad – but nothing happens without a reason. Rastafarians are Christians, and it's up to you, of your own accord, to learn. I base my family life on that. I can deal with being a family man in a showbusiness world because I follow the doctrine of Rasta. I'm not perfect, but if you are married, you must have family values and build it and keep it strong. A family is your responsibility, and you have to adhere to that.

The Guardian