I was born and still live in the North-East of England. I have three children, two daughters in their twenties and a son who is 19. All three are intelligent, funny, capable, good-looking and decent human beings. They're usually a nuisance (of course) but not only am I proud of them - it's in the job description of Dad, after all - it's pretty clear all their friends are, as well. (It's quite odd to get some of the blame for something going right for once...)

I've been married for 31 years - and what's even more weird, to the same wonderful, in fact truly magical, lady. She's a honest-to-goodness psychic. No kidding - real Mulder and Scully stuff at times. She's now disabled as a result of an accident. A few years ago, when she started blacking out in the back garden, falling over and generally making the place look untidy - mere attention-seeking behaviour some would say of course - I packed in work to spend all my time making her cups of tea and other unnecessary pampering. So I retired, in effect, a month or two before my 50th birthday. (Yes, just how sickening is that...?) Luckily I could, just about, afford to.

She too is a journalist, but she's also got the legal brain of a barrister, is a practising witch and she was taught to box by her father, who was an amateur champion. If you can think of a more scary combination, let me know...

Journalist and writer. Used to be, anyway. Now I'm a Gentleman of Independent Means. Mostly I have to make cups of tea for my wife.