THE end is in sight.

The end of finding new and interesting things to fill a lunchbox which will not be instantly dismissed by a child who would rather go hungry than eat healthy.

The end of form filling, homework cramming, bag packing and uniform ironing five-days-a-weeking - for six weeks at least.

They say that it is the children who are tired and need a break by the end of the summer term but I am pretty sure it is me who could really benefit from six weeks of putting my feet up.

It seems like a distant memory having those precious six weeks which just seemed to stretch on forever.

The only reminder that you would indeed need to return to school at some point was the back to school adverts from Woolworths or WH Smith.

Their promotion of new uniform and stationery rudely interrupting a second hour of television watching or spied on a billboard on a day out.

I can remember being fresh out of university - where I think I had more days holiday than days studying - getting my first job, all shiny shoes and starch suit from Matalan I thought made me look smart.

That first time it hits you that six weeks off over summer are long gone and you must endure badly air-conditioned offices is like a cruel slap in the face.

And three weeks off for Christmas? Hahahahahahahahahahaha.

But what once seemed like infinite time off as a child now seems like a mad scramble to schedule holidays, time off work, clubs, visits, childminders.

In fact, I think my mummy workload increases during the summer holidays when we fall out of the comfort of a tightly organised routine.

Like a distant storm, I can already hear the rumbles of forthcoming arguments sounding from the horizon.

"I don't want to get up, it's the school holidays."

"I don't want to go to bed, it's the school holidays."

At least these summer nights are good for one thing - enjoying a chilled glass of Prosecco in the back garden at night.

Once I've finally convinced the children that they still have to go to bed on time despite the school break, of course.