When doctors diagnosed leukaemia and told him he had only two days to live, death was not uppermost in Brendan Behan's mind.

Rather, the biggest concern of the then 26-year-old was for his wife, Philomena, and their two children, Robert and Laura, both of whom were under five.

Behan, a Dublin man (but unrelated to his literary namesake), defied the doctors by pulling through: 12 years on he is fit and healthy, thanks to his fighting spirit and a successful bone marrow transplant.

His family is thriving and, what's more, there have been two delightful additions - three-year- old Emily, who has Down Syndrome, and baby Molly (nine months).

Following the shock diagnosis in 1989, Behan spent almost nine months in hospital. "There were times I got depressed and I didn't think I'd make it," he says, but, teturning home, he refused to sit around feeling sorry for himself.

He chose instead to throw himself into the role of stay-at- home dad while Philomena continued in her IT job.

"It was really tough on Phil holding down a full-time job with two small children and visiting me every evening," he says. "I was glad to be able to take some of the pressure off her when I came out of hospital."

A former skipper of a fishing vessel, Behan knew he could no longer cope with the physical demands of the job: "Fishing is a tough life and you really have to be in your fullness of health."

Although he misses the sea he is delighted to be at home with his children. Robert, 17, and Laura, 15, are fairly independent, but the two younger girls keep him on his toes from six o'clock each morning.

Three days a week he brings his three-year-old to a playgroup in Cheeverstown. Born with a hole in her heart, Emily had to undergo major surgery at Great Ormonde Street Hospital. "But she's doing great now," says her proud dad.

On top of the humdrum household activities, Behan also finds time to ferry Laura to netball matches and to teach her to play the guitar. So impressed is the teenager with her all-round dad that she recently nominated him for Weetabix Dad of the Year. He won.

The modest father says there is nothing exceptional about what he does:"You just get into a routine. "It doesn't bother me to be called a house dad because a lot of men look after the kids, for whatever reason. There's no stigma attached to it now - not like years ago."

While shopping, washing and changing nappies are all in a day's work the line is drawn at cleaning. It's not that he refuses to do it - but because Brendan's idea of a clean house differs hugely from hers, Philomena has undertaken to keep the house to her standard!

Cooking is Behan's forte. The family greatly appreciates his culinary efforts and he thinks nothing of throwing a dinner party for 25.

One morning a week he escapes from the house to attend a bread-making course at DIT Kevin Street; he has taken a course at Ballymaloe and hopes to attend another.

At some stage he would love to pursue a career in catering, but, he says, "I have to weigh things up and consider how my working would affect the family."

The subject of Behan's leukaemia is rarely mentioned at home now. "At the time it was awful for the kids," he says. "They didn't understand what was happening - seeing me in hospital with wires hanging out of me. I worried more for them than myself.

"Other people on the ward died and sometimes I wondered if I would be next. My main concern was for my survival, so that I would be there for them.

"But it's all in the past now and, as the years go by, I try to shut it out of my mind. I just try and forget it. After all, I've lived to tell the tale."