I hope that in ten years' time my children will read this and feel really guilty. They have got in the way. They have spoilt my fun. They have been a burden to their poor father.

It's not the material things that bother me. Some people get upset that kids trash their homes and make a mess of their fine cars. But my home was never going to get into any of the trendier homes magazines. I prefer my curtains to match the carpet, but I won't lose sleep over the fact that they don't. And a certain amount of scribble on the walls, as far as I'm concerned, adds a bit of character.

As for my car, I enjoy driving a 20-year-old banger, with the floor covered in McDonalds toys and mashed up smarties. If anyone doesn't like it, they can always take the bus.

Sex? What's that...
However there are some more serious issues. My kids have blighted my sex life. Whenever my wife and I are starting to feel the stirrings of romance, it's a fair bet that some horrid little child will come running downstairs, unable to sleep, or demanding a glass of apple juice. By the time we've sorted out their problems it's too late, or we're too tired or we're not in the mood.

My cultural life is poorer because of my kids. Over the last ten years I've only been to the cinema twice. Before I was married I went almost every week. But now going to the cinema means that we have to spend £30 on a sitter, and rush there and back in record time. It's not worth the bother.

The bathroom: disputed territory
I can't relax at home. As a younger man, I used to enjoy sitting in a steaming hot bath, often reading a book or listening to the radio - or both. Now, by the time that we've bathed the two children, all the hot water is used up. It takes a couple of hours for the water to heat up again, so I'll usually just jump into the lukewarm puddle left by my kids. I probably only get to have a really hot bath about once a month.

And then there's the toilet. Just as I'm sitting on the toilet with my newspaper there is inevitably a bang on the door and the dreadful words: 'Dad, I need to do a wee wee'. Or 'Dad I'm bursting'. Or 'Dad I'm going to do it on the floor'. Or worse still, 'Dad I've just done it on the floor'. And then I have to suffer the indignity of shuffling towards the door, with my trousers around my ankles, so that my kids can relieve themselves in comfort. It's humiliating.

As a father, it's very difficult to do nothing. I can take the children out to the park or play with them in the garden. But it's difficult to sit down and read or watch a video or potter about, while ignoring the children.

Glimmer of hope...
However, I'm pleased to report that things are getting better. The kids are now old enough to do some of the things I like. Even if I can't go the cinema, I can still take them to galleries or museums or stately homes. And they will even help me do a bit of gardening, which is another activity that I enjoy.

The children are now old enough to go to friends for an afternoon, which means occasionally Carol and I can squeeze in a quick session while they're away.

Best of all, we have recently moved to a house with two toilets. I no longer have to vacate the lavatory because of the kids. I can take the newspaper and sit on my throne of glory, master of all I survey. It may seem a bit petty, but it's little things like this that, for me, make life worthwhile.

Now read Carol's side of the story...

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