How actor and Industry star Trevor White spends a day off in Toronto

Vancouver-born actor Trevor White left Canada in the early aughts to pursue bigger opportunities. “There was a ceiling to the amount of work I could get living in Vancouver, so I had to move abroad to get serious,” he says. He cut his teeth in London, starting with a Fringe production before landing prominent UK stage roles—most notably, Tullus Aufidius in the Royal Shakespeare Company’s Coriolanus. There, he met his now wife, The Walking Dead actor Eleanor Matsuura. Television followed, with turns in Downton Abbey, Doctor Who, I Hate Suzie, Red Eye and, most recently, Industry. “I’m not sure why they never let me play the nice guy,” White says.

In 2022, White took on the title role in Mirvish’s Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, relocating to Toronto with Matsuura and their two young children. They never left. “I think we were just so exhausted that we ended up staying by accident,” White says. Fatigue may have kept him in Toronto, but it hasn’t slowed him down. This summer, he leads the animated feature Tad and the Magic Lamp and heads to Ghana to shoot a still-under-wraps HBO-BBC co-production. Days off, it seems, remain necessary.

Morning

With two young kids, school days are my days off—at least when I’m not shooting. My daughter, Yoshimi, is an early riser, usually up around six. Now that she’s in the third grade, she’s capable of heading downstairs on her own to make breakfast. It’s always something simple: a toasted Kettleman’s bagel or a bowl of Cheerios. She’ll put on a cartoon and often help her little brother, Kenzo, with his breakfast. He’s prone to sneaking out early from whichever bed he’s crawled into in the course of the night—usually mine—to hang out with her.

I’ve never been a morning person. I understand the romance of that golden light right after dawn, but it’s never been my thing. I miss the days when 7:20 a.m. didn’t count as sleeping in, but here we are. When I wake up—assuming I’m not taping auditions for this or that—I save my shower for later, knowing I’ll be working out.

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I get dressed and head downstairs to make a pour-over for my wife, Eleanor. I’m a frugal guy; my wife is less so. I usually handle the groceries because I love Fiesta Farms and am good at picking coffee beans that feel fancy enough to please her—while often neglecting to mention that they were on sale (they always are or I won’t buy them).

Then it’s breakfast for me: coconut yogurt with fruit and granola, plus a decaf pour-over with steamed oat milk and honey. The coffee is really just a conduit for the honey and the milk. I gave up caffeine in my late twenties while living in Vancouver, back when I’d spend hours in cafés enjoying endless refills and then leave feeling inexplicably anxious. It took a while to connect the dots, but eventually I realized it was the caffeine making me feel unhinged. It was kind of an embarrassingly duh moment for me.

I pack Yoshi’s lunch—finger sandwiches from Summerhill Market, veggie sticks—which I somehow find worse than wrestling a duvet cover back onto the duvet. Then we’re out the door. Ellie and I trade school drop-off depending on who has voice work. In summer, we bike the Harbord Street lanes; in winter, we drive. On my days on duty, I drop the kids and head straight to the U of T rec centre for squash. I recently learned that I’m a dog in the Chinese zodiac, which tracks—I love chasing balls. Basketball, padel, squash: I forget I’m exercising and just have fun.

Afternoon

After my workout, I’ll often stop by Janelle’s Kitchen on College Street to grab a bite and linger awhile. Whatever I order feels like it’s coming straight from her home kitchen—warm, welcoming, unpretentious. Eggs are a go-to, sometimes a BLT; it hardly matters. Whatever she’s cooking lands as pure comfort.

On more practical days, I head to the grocery store instead. Wandering the aisles at Fiesta is a happy place for me, so I never mind doing the shopping, especially because the chocolate section is pretty amazing. I’ll grab my fair share of produce (we are a bowl family) and a rotisserie chicken—my reliable lunch. Back home, I slice it up, drizzle it with olive oil, sprinkle on a little salt and finish with a dab (or three) of Cholula sweet habanero hot sauce.

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After lunch, there’s the usual homey admin to take care of—emails, working on lines, catching up on a reading or a show that may be adjacent to a project I’m working on, that kind of thing. Most auditions happen by self-recording, since I do a lot of voice work. So I’ll head into my daughter’s room and set up my self-tape under her bunk bed. Every so often a car passes or a plane drifts overhead, but it’s usually quiet enough to work without much disruption.

Then it’s pickup time. My daughter and son are both in a rotating carousel of programs—swimming at Felix, musical theatre at Randolph, dancing at City Dance Corps and a great little music program called Palmerston Music Factory, which is essentially one big jam session in someone’s home. It’s kind of a pleasant chaos, hustling between drop-offs and pickups until we’ve arrived at dinnertime.

Evening

We’re a family that loves eating out, so we make a habit of going out for dinner at least twice a week, sometimes even three times. Nothing fancy, just good, welcoming places with thoughtful food. Our favourite family spot, bar none, is Dotty’s. The staff treat us like family, and the food is consistently superb. I can’t avoid the burger when I’m there, while my wife and kids always order whatever fish plate is on special—they’re all pescatarian. I respect it, but I’m not strong enough to give up meat.

Ellie is British Japanese, so we occasionally go out for sushi too. Simple local spots like Kibo or Haku on Harbord suit us just fine. If we’re in the mood for pasta, Annabelle Pasta Bar is our go-to: a tiny rotating menu of three fresh pastas alongside a handful of dependable small plates. It never disappoints. When we’re cooking at home, it’s equally unfussy—veggie burgers and sausages, buttered pasta, lots of seafood, fish and Ellie’s expert rice.

After dinner, it’s bath time for the kids. If we need a little extra persuasion, we break out what we call “potions”—a powder we pick up at the Evergreen Brick Works Market that turns the water into a foaming, bubbling cauldron. Show me a kid who could say no to that. My wife and I alternate bedtime duties. Yoshi now reads to us in English or French—she’s in French immersion and very proud of it—while Kenzo prefers his favourites on repeat: Professor Wormbog in Search for the Zipperump-a-Zoo or just about anything by Julia Donaldson.

Once the nightlights are on and the house finally goes quiet, Ellie and I sneak downstairs to watch something together—either a proper drama or a great reality show like The Traitors. We’re deep into Industry, The Last of Us and Adolescence, which I think may be one of the best shows of the past ten years. Heated Rivalry caught us completely off guard—so beautiful and surprising. You keep waiting for it to pull the rug out from under you, and it never does. A love story like that is almost never told.

We’re usually good for a few episodes or a whole movie before heading to bed. Passing out on the couch isn’t a pastime of ours. It’s a late night if we make it to 11 p.m.—but I waited until I was in my forties to have kids, so I had my fair share of late nights already.