Sir Peter Blake, 71, is one of Britain's leading artists. In the 1960s he was a key exponent of pop art, and his work included the cover for the Beatles' Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

He was elected to the Royal Academy in 1981, awarded a CBE in 1983, and made an honorary doctor of the Royal College of Art in 1998. He was knighted in 2002.

He and his artist wife, Chrissy, 56, have one child, Rose, 16, who is studying for her AS-levels at school. They live in west London. Sir Peter also has two children, Liberty, 35, and Daisy, 30, from his previous marriage to Jann Haworth.

ROSE: I don't really know that much about what it was like in the 1960s, but I do know that Dad designed things like the album cover for Sgt Pepper. I guess it's the sort of stuff I'm taking more of an interest in now. And what's great is that Dad still keeps in touch with a lot of the people he knew back then — like Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey of the Who. I've begun to make connections between the kind of work he was doing and the people who influenced him.

Dad's also still good friends with Paul McCartney. In fact, a couple of years ago he mentioned to Paul that I was doing this musical composition for school, and Paul offered to help me put something together and invited us round to his house. For about an hour and a half that afternoon, Paul sat with his guitar while I sat at the piano, and together we worked something out. I mean, I'm a fan of the Beatles now, too, so can you imagine? It was fantastic. We've also been to see Paul in concert a couple of times.

Earlier this year, Dad went to see Brian Wilson at the Festival Hall. And he had dinner with him too, which was very special for Dad — Brian's been his hero for ages. In fact, not long ago, Dad said in an interview that he'd rather have designed the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds album than Sgt Pepper. Brian happened to read this, so he asked Dad if he'd do the cover of his new album. He, of course, said yes. He's just finished it.

What's great about Dad, though, is that he's also liked and respected by younger generations. I mean, the other day he had lunch with Paul Weller — he designed his album cover for Stanley Road — and a few years ago Robbie Williams invited us to his house for tea. Robbie's a big fan of Dad's and has bought several of his works. Being only 12 years old at the time, I was a huge fan of Robbie's, so it certainly made me think that Dad was pretty cool. But the thing about Dad is that you're just as likely to find him chatting to a stranger as to his celebrity friends. The other night we were at a bus stop and this guy started talking to Dad. Dad chatted to him on the bus all the way home. That's what he's like.

I guess he's very laid-back that way — probably in most ways. When I was small, Dad created this art work called Sculpture Park. It was three massive panels with loads of miniature things stuck on it, like houses, people, trees, roads, cars and fire engines. It must have looked like a toy town to me because, for a while, every time I went by it I couldn't resist pulling something off. But Dad never told me off about it. He probably saw it as me taking an interest in art.

It's the same with his studio. He used to have it in the house and he'd never mind if I came in for a chat or to watch him paint. Because he worked from home, he was always around for me. My earliest memories are of him putting me to bed every night. He'd sing cockney songs
like Burlington Bertie, then read to me. The only thing was, after he'd read a few pages, he'd drop off! I'd have to wake him and tell him he hadn't finished.

He may have been a bit older than the other dads, but he's always been great fun. He'd often take me on outings, and one of my favourite things was Carter's steam fair, which came to Chiswick every year. He knew the man who ran it, so I'd get on all the rides for nothing. Then, on Saturdays, we'd go to Portobello market. He'd buy things for one of his collections — he's got puppets, elephants, Elvis memorabilia; all kinds of things. He's still the same: the other day, he bought some stuffed birds and old hats in an auction at a museum that was closing down in Cornwall.

One of the things he was really into in the 1960s was his badge collection. He even did this painting of himself in 1961, Self-Portrait with Badges, in which he's standing with all these badges pinned onto his jacket. I wear badges now — I like to think that I'm carrying on his tradition. Occasionally I'll borrow one of his; he's got great ones of the Beatles, and Ian Dury and the Blockheads.

I suppose the thing about Dad is that when you see how he dresses now, with his black suit, white shirt and cuff links, he looks quite reserved. But it's just a cover for what's going on inside his head. There's a lot of crazy things happening up there — he's still coming out with amazing ideas. At the moment he's working on this series of paintings featuring Marcel Duchamp, Tracey Emin, the Spice Girls and Elvis Presley. I can't wait to see the end results. What I love about Dad's work is that he's influenced by so many different things, and he's still got his finger on the pulse.

I'm 16 now, and although Dad's 71 we're the best of friends. And I know just how special he really is. Not only is he a great artist, but he's a great person and he's a great dad.

PETER: Before Rose came along, Chrissy and I did lose a baby — it had to be terminated. After that we really didn't think we'd have any children, but when Chrissy was 39 she got pregnant again. Back then, that was considered pretty elderly to be having a baby, so we were worried whether it would all be okay. But within minutes of Chrissy giving birth I was holding this beautiful, healthy little girl in my arms. We were over the moon.

Although I had two daughters from a previous marriage, Rose is the only child Chrissy and I have together and we've pretty much taken her everywhere with us. When she was only a few weeks old, we took her to the Caprice in a basket. Once she got a bit older, we'd bring one of those clip-on chairs and stick it onto the end of restaurant tables for her. Places like the Ivy must have hated that.

I was 55 when Rose was born, so I was in my sixties when she started school. It wasn't long before she became aware that I was a lot older than most of the other dads. I think she sometimes found that quite uncomfortable. There would even be the odd occasion when I'd get mistaken for her grandfather and she'd find that embarrassing. But as she's grown older it doesn't seem to have worried her as much.

I can't believe she's already 16, and it's probably only in the last couple of years that she's started to become aware of this whole thing about me as an artist.

I try not to reminisce about the past too much, though — I can go on for hours and I'd hate to bore the life out of her. But occasionally I tell her about some of the things that happened in the 1960s, like the night the Beatles came to London and we showed them round the clubs. And I'm sure I'll get to tell her loads more stories as she gets older. In fact, I've just started working on a sort of autobiography. I wanted to do it so I could say what did happen.

Fame is a very strange thing, but luckily, because my fame is only within the art world, I can still do things like travel on the bus. But it made me laugh the other day when I was walking with Gary Hume, one of the famous YBAs [young British artists], and it just so happened that in the space of 200 yards about four people stopped to say hello to me. At the end of our walk, Gary said: "It's like walking with bloody Robbie Williams when I'm with you." I guess it's a nice kind of fame, though. Hopefully, it doesn't do my family any harm.

I guess, because I've kept in touch with a lot of the people I knew, like Paul McCartney and Roger Daltrey, Rose has grown up knowing them too. Her godparents are the Everly Brothers and she's met many of the great artists, like Kitaj and David Hockney. She's studying art at school herself now, and she's really into some of the YBAs, like Gillian Wearing and Gavin Turk. I think she likes it that I know a lot of the younger artists — especially when someone like Gavin Turk refers to me as "a f***ing legend".

Rose and I have a great relationship. One of the only things she would ever get cross with me about is my diet. She worries that I'm overweight and she'll tell me off if I'm having a sausage or another slice of bread. I don't mind, though — I know she's just concerned that I should do my best not to die. Because I was an older dad when Rose was born, I used to worry whether I'd be around long enough for her to remember me. Now she's 16, she is, and it's just wonderful to have all this extra time watching her grow up.