I loved my parents. There were never any rows. It was a sort of artistic, bohemian upbringing. My father was a printer at the Northern Echo and my mum was a housewife who did a lot of art courses. At weekends, they'd make vases and bowls, then sell them at craft fairs. My dad worked at night so he could spend more time in the day with us. He made that effort. And I'm the same. I don't like working away.

I was brought up in the country so there were a lot of childish rural pursuits: making dens and rafts. I'd go outside until the sun went down, then listen to music or make model planes. Television was restricted by my parents. They encouraged reading more than anything. It wasn't done in a let's-get-educated kind of way, it was: "This looks like it might be fun so let's do it." There were a lot of castles, art galleries, museums and mountains to climb.

I used to spend all my time at dinner pulling faces at my sister Lois to force her to laugh and spit out her food. And I'd make her lie upside down so I could draw a nose and mouth on her forehead – just so I could laugh at it. I'm going to try that with the kids now that I've reminded myself.

My grandad, my dad's dad, would take me into his study and pick a strange word out of the dictionary for me to use in conversation. I remember "conglomeration" when I was about eight. On holiday once, he dressed me up as an Arab boy and sent me off begging. It was pre-PC days. He was a great old character.

My dad died seven years ago but my mum is still sprightly. We'll go for a walk or trawl through family photos, while I grill her for information. You've got to keep that history going; it's your own personal soap opera. She still surprises me. I looked through her bookshelves recently – she'd always read a lot of history – and she'd got The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo trilogy. I said, "That's a bit racy, isn't it?" She said: "Yes, it's very sexy and very violent." She's 84. It's always good to be surprised by your aged parents.

My eldest, Alice, from my first marriage, is 18, so we do adult things like go to a bar and have a chat about boyfriends. She's doing makeup at college. At new year, I went to New York with my son Louis, who's 14, and did all the tourist things – the Guggenheim Museum, the Statue of Liberty, you name it. I wore him out. But he's up for a long walk. We'll do the Pilgrim's Way. I think it's a boys' thing – to see if we can get from this point to that point.

My youngest two, with my second wife, Nancy, are five. It's a good case study having twins. You can watch them every day and see the differences. Lizzie is artistic, while Nelly can read really well. She's also more boisterous. Lizzie is more, er, weird. When Lizzie makes jokes and pulls faces, they're very bizarre jokes and very strange faces. I suspect she might be following in my footsteps.

I used to think I'd never get married or have kids. Peer pressure suggested I might be a lone wolf forever. I've always let life dictate its own terms. Marriage just happened. It was the traditional thing to do – some people like the taste of wedding cake and a party. Nancy and I have said that when the girls are 18, we'll chuck them out, go and live in Brighton, and have a misspent youth.

• Vic Reeves's new children's series, The Ministry of Curious Stuff, is on CBBC on Mondays at 5.45pm