The day I met my wife was also the day I learnt a valuable life lesson. You see, it wasn’t just about being in the right place at the right time; the moment I first laid eyes on her coincided with a very small window when I could actually do something about it.

A year earlier I had rather arrogantly and naively decided, along with two friends, to make my first feature film. In the twelve months that preceded we had raised the money, written the script, assembled a crew, dragged them to Cornwall, and shot the entire film – a feat we’d been told on more than one occasion would be impossible in the timeframe.

As I returned (having finally uttered the immortal line “That’s a wrap!”) I was incredibly proud of what we’d achieved. It had been a huge gamble and yet by some miracle it seemed to have paid off. It had shown me what could happen when you throw caution to the wind and bet on yourself.

That feeling was still coursing through my veins a couple of weeks later when, sat in the sunshine in a London beer garden with a few friends, I saw a beautiful woman walk in, buy a drink and sit down. There is not a time in my life other than that tiny window when I would have done what I did next. Having seen what could happen when you stuck two fingers up to that rising fear of failure, I stood up, walked over, uttered some terrible cheesy line, and, after embarrassing myself for three painfully long minutes, asked for her number. For some bizarre reason she gave it to me.

It is the defining moment of my life, not just because of the wonderful family we now have together, but because everything that has happened since is a reminder of how much can be gained from overcoming your fears – and making a complete fool of yourself. So whenever I’m staring failure in the face, I think back to that moment and ask myself, “what would that guy do?”