Most people don't say anything until after they've passed by. Then they'll turn and gawp. It doesn't bother me. When you are asked, "Is it cold up there?" half a dozen times a day, you get used to it.

I was only 7lb 14oz when I was born. At 62cm, I was a little longer than the 50cm average, but in those days a big baby was a bonny baby, so no one made much of it. After that, though, I just grew and grew and grew. By three I was 4ft tall, at five I was 5ft, and by 10 I was pushing 6ft. The sacks in the sack race came up to my shins and when the football landed on the roof at school, it was me, not the headmaster, who would be the one to get it down.

While my classmates adopted me as their unofficial security guard, the older boys would shower me with punches as I passed and call me a freak. It wasn't as if I could keep a low profile; after I was laughed out of the school uniform shop at the age of 12 - and at 6ft 3in - Mum had to take me to a tailor to fit me out in a £250 business suit.

As my body shot up during puberty, it began to outgrow my insides. I developed bad asthma as my 10-year-old lungs struggled to support my man-sized frame, and it was up to my mum to wake me four times a night to hook me up to an oxygen mask. I also suffered from terrible growing pains - sometimes I could almost feel the bones in my legs moving.

My height continued to creep up throughout my teens: 6ft 8in at 15; 6ft 10in at 18; 7ft 1in at 21. By this stage my appetite was enormous. For as long as I can remember, a typical day has begun with a mixing bowl full of cereal and a pint of milk, followed by two rounds of toast. By mid-morning, I need three packets of crisps or a couple of pasties to keep me going until my three-course lunch. Next up is the afternoon filler of four crumpets and a tin of beans, before a tea of two-inch-thick pork chops, eight or nine potatoes, carrots and peas. I'll cap the day off with another mixing bowl of cereal before bed, though if I'm doing a lot of exercise, I'll swap that for a mixing bowl of pasta.

I made a decision early on not to be ashamed of my size. I have always preferred to be called a giant than to resort to euphemisms such as "big chap" or "tall person". There isn't a universal definition of what constitutes a giant - especially for someone like me who grew naturally rather than as a result of a hormonal disorder - but experts agree that it's reasonable to ascribe the term to anyone over 7ft.

There are inconveniences, of course: I've never been able to lie down in the bath, for example, and door frames and ceiling lights pose a constant threat. It helps that I now live in a new-build: before I moved in, I was able to ensure that the light fittings were flush to the ceiling and that the shower was installed a foot higher than normal.

Most of the time, I love being a giant. There are the obvious advantages - reaching for high things for small ladies in shops, painting ceilings, putting the fairy on the Christmas tree and scaring small children into silence - and it was certainly an asset during my stint with the Cheshire police, when I was nudging 8ft in my hat and boots. During one incident, I arrived at a house to find a man brandishing an eight-inch bread knife. As I entered the room, he put down the knife. "Fair dos, mate," he said. "I don't want any bother."

I come from a fairly tall family - Dad's 6ft 3in and Mum's 5ft 10in - which might explain why I've always felt pretty normal. All my height is in my 48in legs, so when I'm sitting down, I look like anyone else. When I first met my managing director, I stood up to introduce myself and watched his head move to where he thought my face would be - then up, and up again. His look of shock is a familiar one.

I have only once met someone taller than myself. I was playing basketball against a man called Alan Bannister, who is 7ft 5in, and I remember turning around at one point and finding this vast figure towering over me. I immediately messed up my shot. For the first time in my life, I was the normal bloke with the shocked expression, and it felt great.