IT came as no surprise to me to learn that your social life takes a nosedive when you have children. But is it a general trend that parenthood causes people to stop liking you too?

After a run of rejections from people we'd asked over for dinner, my husband and I began to have some serious doubts about our popularity.

Our calendar had been bare of invitations for several weeks, which I'd put down to winter apathy and the recent crop of half-decent storylines on the TV soaps. It was also the case that we

hadn't made much effort ourselves to get in touch with people.

But when we began casually asking friends to 'name any date' they could come for supper, we were disappointed to hear they were far too busy organising outings for deprived toddlers or attending finger-painting evening classes to spend any time with us.

"I think we're free around in September . . . that is, September 2001," was one response. Had we offended them in some way?

Cat-owners have seemed particularly anxious to avoid our company. I can only assume it's because my husband has become more outspoken of late about his intense dislike of the entire feline species. "Cats are scum," he is wont to say, should anyone start talking about how much they adore their furry companions.

Of course, he doesn't mean that all cat-owners are scum too, but you know how sensitive people can be.

As for the rest, well, it's fair to say that at the last few social gatherings we haven't been the most entertaining of hosts or guests.

Thanks to the demands of a wakeful toddler, we are so deadbeat by 10pm that we fall asleep on the nearest

sofa, no matter whose house we're in

or how interesting our companions

happen to be.

In fact, our dinner party guests have sometimes arrived promptly at eight o'clock and have been fast-tracked through a three-course meal and coffee, so that by 9pm we're offering to call a cab for them and are hustling them into their coats.

"Is there a later sitting too?" asked one departing guest, looking down the road to see if anyone else was arriving.

He'd failed to notice that I had already changed into my pyjamas and had a toothbrush in my hand.

It's not even as if we've provided scintillating conversation during our conscious moments, unless our fellow revellers have shared our passion for going on about how wonderfully fulfilling parenthood can be - when you're feeling up to it.

My most embarrassing comment on this subject was made to some cat-owners who weren't convinced about why they should start a family. "Children are like pets, but better," I reasoned, in a tired, bleary, unconvincing sort of way.

Now, however, we've recognised our failings and have tried to make amends. My husband has made an 'I love cats' badge and we've expanded our topics of conversation to include something on how to have bags of fun in Burgess Hill.

It must be working because we've been invited to three parties next week. They're all on April l.

No, don't say anything.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.