On Christmas Eve with all the presents wrapped, stockings filled, the kitchen bulging with food and five excited children finally asleep, I’ll pour myself, my husband, Andy, and our guests, Matt and Peppa, a glass of Baileys ‘Happy Christmas,’ we’ll say as we clink glasses and chat.
Then the four of us will flop into bed, knowing our wakeup call of ‘He’s been…!’ will be at an ungodly early hour.
Like in most households our collective children, aged from two to 13, will be out of bed before dawn to see what Father Christmas has left.
But that’s where our similarity with most families ends. You see, while Andy, 53, and I have been married for four years, Matt Thewlis, 32, is my ex – father of my sons Noah…