I was diagnosed in 1987 because my GP knew I was gay. My wife knew long before we were married but I had aversion therapy and was assured I would be cured of my sexuality. There were various family pressures for us to get married and I succumbed to the pressure. As married life ensued I played around more; not a great deal, but more. I wasn't unduly concerned because I believed that HIV was something that affected America and maybe London, but not the area where I lived. I didn't think twice about the test.

On receiving the results my GP's receptionist rang me. We were eating our tea at the time, as we had two small children it was baked beans, fish fingers and chips. I went to the telephone and answered and was put through to the doctor. My GP's words were, 'I've had the results of your test, you're positive, you'd better come and see me. I'm busy now, goodbye'. And that was it.

I felt the floor was going to swallow me up. I went back into the kitchen where we were eating and I must have looked particularly ashen as my wife said we'd better go outside. So we went outside and she said, 'You've had the results of the test and they're positive' and I said 'Yes, you'd better move me into the spare bedroom because I'm going to die'. You have to remember at the time there was no treatment, no-one knew very much about the condition. I had these two small children and I wasn't going to see them grow up.

I remember going to the hospital and wailing uncontrollably in grief. Thank god my wife stuck by me. She said, 'I married you knowing you were gay, you have a condition which is seemingly related to your sexuality and I accepted you and I accept the consequences'.

Over a period of time I became gradually unwell. At first I didn't accept the conditions I'd got were anything to do with HIV; skin infections, seborrheic dermatitis, athlete's foot, various other minor things. I had dermatitis so badly that I had constant weeping from various parts of my body, particularly behind my ears. I would sit at work with fluid dripping down my neck onto my shirt collar. My face would be red raw. I just had to face the fact that I was becoming more and more unwell. I didn't take time off work and I didn't claim DLA or any other benefits, although I'd been told I would have been eligible, because I didn't want to face the reality.

'The treatment I get is second to none'

I had to change the clinic I went to because they were so disinterested and so rude. I now go to another clinic where they're caring and I have to say that the treatment I get from them is second to none, although my experience is that unless you push for the best treatment you can get you won't get the best. They put me onto anabolic steroids because of my weight loss, and I began to gain weight in conjunction with a new combination. Now my viral load has gone back to undetectable levels and my CD4 count is rising. It was 450 and will hopefully continue to rise back to the levels of someone who isn't positive.

I inculcated my children from the time they were relatively small with the fact that if I were to bleed, or there were any bodily fluids that might be risky, that they were not to touch them. You have to remember that initially when I was diagnosed it was thought that sick and snot and dribble and all those sorts of things were all issues for potential contamination. Of course my eldest son was astute enough to realise that that was probably because I have HIV. When I became ill with PCP and dysentery for the second time I was admitted to hospital. We thought that perhaps the end was near, so I told my kids that I had HIV. I thank god that my kids are as tolerant as my wife and they love me to bits and I love them. They are wonderful individuals who are tolerant of their fellow man. They are respectful of people's differences and they are lovely people.

I wouldn't have HIV if I had the choice. I wouldn't knowingly give it to anyone else and I wouldn't knowingly have anyone infected. But if anything good has come out of it it's that it's made me more aware of the need to be tolerant of other people, so in that respect it hasn't been a bad thing.

I was very alarmed recently to be told by someone that he didn't want me to wear a condom, it wasn't necessary. I said, 'But it is, I'm positive and I know you're not', and this guy said to me, 'Oh no, no, it doesn't matter. I've made a rational and reasoned decision and I don't care if I become positive because it's treatable.', Well, all I can say is that if people think that having the treatment is an answer to the condition being no big deal, they're very wrong.

Every day, twice a day for me, I have to take four tablets. I'm not on a one a day regime because HIV and the medication have had dramatic effects on my liver. I have to take them twelve hours apart - no big deal you might think. I wake each day at half eight. Imagine you've gone to a party, and you've been up till four in the morning but at half eight you've got to wake up. Even if you don't feel like waking up, you've got to wake up. In the evening I have to take it twelve hours later. The problem is that I can't eat for two hours either side so if a friend says, 'Come to dinner', you can't say, 'Well I have to eat at a particular time', because they will expect you to eat when they want to eat. So it causes all sorts of problems in that regard.

I'm not in fits of despair anymore, I don't wail with grief when I go to the clinic, but I'm not happy about having to go. No big deal? Well I'm sorry, but you're wrong. It's a big deal and it's a shit condition to have.