IS IT just us or does everyone suffer from "ten to nine syndrome"? School days are set routines. Mum gets up at 6.45am to prepare the packed lunches, and the children (that includes me in her eyes) start being roused at around 7.45am.

It's quite calm to begin with. Mum shouts to the kids that it's time to get up in a sing-songy kind of way. (She doesn't mention me by name - she just expects me to react.) But every follow-up call from then on gets that bit louder until she's positively screaming at them to get out of bed. Obviously, that's the point at which I get up too.

Once they're up, they have to be instructed to get dressed. I'm sure they'd walk to school in their pyjamas if they weren't told. Then it's downstairs for breakfast: Max, four, usually has Golden Nuggets with milk, but only after changing his mind 18 times. Jack, eight, has crumpets. Hannah, nine, has tomatoes on toast, and Christopher, 11, has Rice Krispies with chopped banana. By the time they've finished, I'm usually just seeing off the dregs of my first cup of tea and starting to gain consciousness.

Before I know it, it's teeth-brushing time. Once again it starts off with a relatively calm question from Mum: "Have you brushed your teeth?" And again, the decibel levels are raised every time she asks the same question until she's a screaming banshee again: "HAVE YOU BRUSHED YOUR TEETH? WELL GET UP THOSE STAIRS AND DO IT!" (You should see how fast I'm up those stairs).

By the time this particular task is completed, Mum normally asks the time and I invariably tell her it's 20 to nine. Everyone breathes a big sigh of relief and a relative peace descends on the house. Compared with what's gone before, it all seems to happen in slow motion at that point.

She always asks what the time is again ten minutes later and, not surprisingly, I tell her it's ten to nine. That's when all hell breaks loose: "OH MY GOD IT'S TEN TO NINE... IT'S TEN TO NINE... QUICK, WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE... IT'S TEN TO NINE... IT'S TEN TO NINE." You should see it - there are kids (and adults) running round like headless chickens: "Where are my shoes? Dad, have you seen my shoes?" "Where's my sweatshirt?" "Where's my bag?" "Have you seen my homework?" "Where's the hair-brush?" Meanwhile, Mum is still shouting: "IT'S TEN TO NINE, IT'S TEN TO NINE" and I'm forced to put down my second cup of tea to help them look for the various missing items.

Then there's Jack. Jack is always last. He's incapable of finding anything and there's a very good reason for that - he can never remember where he's put his glasses.

Eventually, I watch them all rushing up the road to school, with Mum still shouting: "IT'S TEN TO NINE, IT'S TEN TO NINE." I have a vision of family homes all over Britain suddenly descending into chaos at ten to nine. If only mums didn't relax at 20 to nine, we wouldn't have this problem, would we?

THE THINGS THEY SAY

JANE, aged nine, and Helen, 12, were casually asked by their dad if they knew where babies came from. Helen apparently escaped from the room quicker than Houdini on a promise, but Jane replied that, yes, she knew everything there was to know. She explained that when people were married they went to bed together... then the man snored and the lady went and slept in the other bedroom.

* Sent in by Christine Bradley, of Marlborough Drive, Darlington.

* The new Dad At Large book is on sale at Ottakar's in Darlington and through Northern Echo offices. Priced £5, it's a great Christmas stocking filler for the dad in your life.