In the evenings at our house my youngest stepson, David, would usually be laid out with his feet up on the larger of our two sofas while Rachel and I squeezed together along with one of the cats on the smaller one. It’s the sort of thing you accept as a parent, or more accurately my case, step parent.

It’s a different story from when I first met David. He was then was just seven years old, upside down in an arm chair, watching CBeebies. His older brother Joseph was more conventional, sitting cross legged on the carpet in front of the screen.

We were strangers to each other then. They knew I was coming that afternoon, Rachel had told them that she had a “boyfriend”, although I was nearly 50, and things were getting serious. For the first three months or so I stood back while their Mum and I got to know each other better, and for us to be sure that this was going to be a long term thing. We didn’t want them to get to know me and then for me to disappear. 

That afternoon in 2005, the boys and I went up into the loft to see their train set. Being an enthusiast myself, I didn’t have to pretend to be excited about it and we automatically felt comfortable in each other’s company. David kept on showing me the locos, the bridges and the station while Joseph made an excuse to go downstairs. I could see through the loft hatch as he grinned and put two thumbs up in a gesture to Rachel. It seems like I had passed the audition. 

Don’t worry, they were over eighteen when this was taken

They very quickly became my family. We went out to Alnwick for a picnic a few weeks later and it was while we were munching our sandwiches that I took the photograph of them that would sit on my desk at work for the next few years. In it, they are all expressing their characters perfectly. Rachel looks happily resigned to the chaos, Joseph has his arm in the air in a dramatic gesture, and David looks inquisitive. 

I thought I’d have a go at being a stereotypical Victorian Stepfather, buying a cloak and growing an evil moustache. But to be honest, I didn’t have it in me and anyway I grew to love the boys so it was back to plan B. Although taking them to Sunderland to see them play Everton on Boxing Day should’ve been part of Plan A in some people’s books. 

We sat behind the goal, wrapped up in coats and hats, me in the middle seat. As the game progressed, I kept checking to see if they were enjoying themselves. David was engrossed; Joseph was studying the floodlights. No points for guessing which one grew up loving the game. I’m proud to say that David, despite being born in the RVI, is now a Palace fan. So I have had some influence there, even though I’ve condemned him to a lifetime of sporting disappointment. 

Over the last eighteen years I’ve grown to love them both. We’ve had holidays to remember, I’ve waved them off to University and then welcomed them back home. Joseph moved out for the final time about three years ago when he went to live in Heaton: and last Saturday afternoon, it was David’s turn to go. 

No more collecting thirteen cups and plates from his room while he’s out; no more tripping over his shoes by the door where they’ve been left when he came in: no more laughing at stupid things like dropping a tea towel on the kitchen floor or waving at a cat as we drove past it on a street corner. I told you they were stupid things. David and I have a weird, yet similar, sense of humour. 

Just as I still miss Joseph practicing his singing in his room, I will miss all those things about his younger brother. And the next few days will be hard enough for me, let alone Rachel. 

However, as emotional as all this is, I can rest assured that they will both be happy. They both have jobs that they like, Joseph has his boyfriend Daniel, and David has Annie. His address now is the same as hers and they are perfect for each other. 

David (Left) preparing for parenthood

It seems that chapter one of this parenting lark is now complete. Chapter two, so I’m told, when Grandchildren start to arrive, is even better. No pressure, lads, but when you’re ready, we will be there.

And meanwhile, there’s always the train set in the loft. And plenty of space on the sofa.