AN ENGLISHMAN'S home is his castle. Except when he's a dad...

For 12 years, I've been kicked out of my bed by a succession of restless children. I've found it increasingly difficult to get into the bathroom because the kids have gradually taken over with a bigger array of potions than your average Boots. (While Jack is inside, preening his quiff into shape, I'm locked outside, gradually losing mine.)

And now they're crossing the final frontier - the lounge. After 9pm, the lounge has always been a relatively safe, child-free haven. But not any more.

Later and later into the evening, I find myself sharing the lounge with children, notably a 12-year-old and his 11-year-old sister who like to sprawl out so that I have to sit on the floor.

"Can I watch the news?" I ask.

"Aw, Dad, we're watching Friends," they chorus.

They have a TV upstairs but say it's more comfortable in the lounge. Luckily, their two younger brothers still go to bed reasonably early but one day there'll be four of them in the lounge after 9pm.

Last week, my daughter invited four friends for a 'sleepover' as part of her 11th birthday celebrations. I hate sleepovers: more beds to make, lots of mess, and incessant chattering until the early hours.

But this particular sleepover was the worst yet because the party invitation included watching a scary video. And, naturally, they had to watch it when it was dark - in the lounge.

There they were: five 11-year-old girls, cuddled up with goosebumps underneath a duvet, on my settee, at 10 o'clock on a Saturday night.

"Where are we supposed to go?" I inquired.

"Dunno. Bye," replied my darling daughter, waving dismissively.

My wife had a thought: "There's a TV point in the kitchen. We'll bring the portable down from upstairs."

Before I knew it, there were two rickety old chairs positioned in front of a portable television, balanced on a kitchen worktop. This is no ordinary portable. It is an original Trinitron which belonged to her mum and must be at least 100 years old. We sat like a sad old couple, on uncomfortable chairs, with pizzas on lap-trays, watching Parkinson on an ancient telly with dodgy reception, in the kitchen. It's not even a very big kitchen.

"At least you won't have far to go to do the washing up," she said. And she wasn't joking.

After 20 minutes, my wife decided she'd had enough of Parky and, attracted by the shrieks and giggles, went off to watch the scary video. She was allowed into the lounge because she's a girl. I had to stay, on my lonesome, in the kitchen because I'm a boy.

Fed up, I sloped off to bed - leaving the washing up on a point of principle.

The bathroom was locked. It could have been any one of nine children. I know it wasn't the tenth - because he was fast asleep in my bed.

Next stop the garden shed. There's a gnome in there - I could talk to him.

ON THE ROAD...

THE Dad At Large Roadshow enjoyed a warm welcome at Witton-le-Wear WI. At 87 years old, it's County Durham's most mature branch - a distinction shared with Cotherstone until they folded a while back.

Hosted by the indefatigable Sheila Tock, not best pleased that the date clashed with a meeting of the parish council next door, it was great fun, ending with a slice of authentic Bakewell Tart from a recent jaunt to Derbyshire.

Sheila's family's been around those parts since "fourteen hundred and something". The parish council had better watch itself...

BRANCH secretary Sue Cooper recalled needing a hip replacement operation when son Matthew was only small.

Soon afterwards, they were watching TV when an advert came on for Tena Lady incontinence pads in which a young woman ran along a beach, leaping athletically to demonstrate the quality of the product.

"You could do with them, Mum," said Matthew.

Sue nearly choked on her tea: "What makes you say that?" she gulped.

"It'd be good for your aches and pains," the boy replied...

IF Vitalite tubs are airtight, someone's in for a hell of a shock if they ever dig up Sue's garden in the future...

She had a tear in her eye as she remembered a long lost family pet - Zorro the hamster.

Why Zorro? Hamsters are hardly swashbuckling, are they?

"Matthew was off school ill at the time and we were watching Zorro on TV when we decided to get him a hamster," she explained as if it was logical.

"Anyway, when he died, we buried him in a Vitalite tub in the garden with a gnome marking the spot."

A clear case of parting being such sweet Zorro...

MATTHEW also had a goldfish - its name long forgotten - and it was left in the care of Grandma when the family went on holiday.

Grandma rang with bad news: "The goldfish has died."

"Just get another one," said Sue, not wanting Matthew to be upset.

When they got home, Matthew went straight over to the goldfish bowl: "That fish looks smaller," he said.

Sue thought on her feet: "He must have been pining for you while you've been away - he's just lost weight," she explained.

WI member Doreen Taylor, recalled asking son David: "What do you like about school?"

"Coming home," he replied.

Published: 22/05/2003