A fish out of this water, his normal stomping ground begins at the restaurant door, curating perfect pairings of reds and whites by the bottle with a side of romance à la carte. Fred Sirieix is pacing a little now, anxious and praying his daughter can plate a special entrée.

It comes. Three stars and rich applause deserved. If a sizzling First Date on his Channel 4 show gladdens his soul, then witnessing her cook up a storm in the diving pool fills the effervescent Frenchman’s heart fit to burst.

We watch a low-key competition for Andrea Spendolini-Sirieix to its conclusion before television’s masterful maitre d’ becalms himself enough to converse. Days like these have prepared her for what awaits in the week ahead. At the world aquatic championships in the Japanese city of Fukuoka, her challenge begins in Sunday’s 10-metre platform synchro event in which she and Lois Toulson were European champions in Rome last August.

Fred shed unashamed tears on her individual gold at last summer’s Commonwealth Games, his Instagram full of pride at watching the 18-year-old excel.

Mon caneton, he calls her. Translation: my duckling. “It’s fantastic,” he enthuses in that recognisable Gallic drawl. “For me, she’s an inspiration, for herself, for me, for the family. And for all these young athletes who are coming behind her.

“I remember when Andrea first won the British championship, she was just 15. Some of these girls here are now the same age as Andrea was. And she’s so good with them.”

Barely their elder, the young Londoner has now devoted herself to this craft for a decade, to plunges into the pool but also necessary grunt work on dry land: bouncing off trampolines, contortions in the gym – video analysis to boot. This is an abnormal pursuit at an age, Spendolini-Sirieix concedes, when contemporaries are set to let fly with school out. “It’s very different, it’s so different. I mean, we throw ourselves off heights that most people wouldn’t even look off.”

She grins, no doubt in a satisfying retort to tiresome teases who have done her endeavours down. Most would buckle with vertigo, knees trembling, at the reality of this long way down.

Not so easy, is it? “They ask me: ‘Oh, so what do you do, do you just, like, spin?’” she says with a chuckle. “I’m like: ‘Well, you see that concrete slab, I throw myself off of that, and I do some twists, and I do some flips.’ But it’s fun to describe it. It’s quite a funny thing.”

With serious – or Sirieix, if you will – intent. Crowned world and European champion as a junior in the individual 10m platform event, golds were purloined from the grownups across 2022. Tangible advances made from the Tokyo Olympics where she finished seventh as the youngest member of the British squad.

The Covid Games were a leap into the unknown and the learning curve felt steep. She left Japan exhausted, her spirits sunken. “I was quite ready to pack my bags and be done,” she says. The revival came slowly. Even at last year’s worlds in Budapest, expectations became dead weights. “It definitely helped me know what doesn’t work for me,” she says. “This year, I’m just figuring out what does. It’s just trial and error.”

A need for equilibrium was one clue. That has meant freeing ample time to complete her A-levels in Spanish, English literature and history in recent weeks. Plans are afoot to study a degree in sports journalism. “I just want to enjoy myself,” she says. “If I enjoy myself, I do well. And I’m proud of myself, whatever I do. Because I’m very overwhelmed with a lot of things.”

Remaining above water demands support from her parents, from her brother, from her coach, Alex Rochas. “Life is not just diving, it’s school, it’s her friends, it’s family,” says Fred. “It’s being a rounded, balanced and kind person, which as a parent, I’m very happy about.”

Increased attention will inevitably come her way during a fast-approaching Olympic year. The past Olympic champions Jack Laugher and Matty Lee remain high-flyers but their profile barely causes a ripple. Tom Daley has been on indefinite leave since his golden leaps in Tokyo and has made no firm commitment to a comeback.

Spendolini-Sirieix is duly primed to inherit his limelight. Since primary school, she has become normalised to the curious cult of celebrity through her father’s on-air adventures. “I see him in person,” she says. “I see him on TV. I’m proud of him. He’s proud of me. You get used to it.”

Naturally protective, Fred understands this pressure cooker and how it can burn. Putting his fame to good use, he is overseeing a new restaurant inside a prison in Lincoln where offenders can acquire skills to render them employable on their release.

Andrea inherits his wisdom. “She is faced with situations which we can talk about together at home,” Sirieix says. “You learn by watching and seeing what’s happening.

“And if she does what she does at a high level, then of course there’s media attention,” he adds. “But it’s not like you’re in Hollywood and all that. And for four or five minutes of somebody paying attention to you, it’s hours and days of hard work.”

Chasing history, if she becomes the first British female to win a solo world medal, it will further illuminate her star. Next summer, in the homeland of her father, her dual nationality will double the potential acclaim with the Olympics to be hosted in Paris.

“I don’t really want to put any pressure on myself,” she says. “I’ve got a lot going on this year. The worlds are the big thing. And when that’s done, we start next season after the summer holidays. So right now I’m just focused on this season. And then when the Olympic season comes, I’ll focus on that.”

La famille Sirieix will drink a toast to her accomplishments, regardless of the ultimate review. Andrea, in an unexpected dive bomb, will cover her glass and take a pass on the nectar of the gods. “I don’t like it,” she asserts with adolescent indignation.

“What can you do?” Fred sighs, eyes rolling, tongue (mostly) in cheek. “But she’s an athlete now. So that she doesn’t like wine is not a problem for me. C’est la vie.”