I GUESS it's too late to deny the obvious, to mutter under my breath and pretend that I'm not a househusband. Though it sure would be nice, because that way I wouldn't get roped into going on any more school trips.

It's not that they don't go to some interesting places I'd really like to see. It's just that I inevitably end up feeling like a harried sheepdog as I continually circle round my small flock, making sure that they're all moving in the same general direction.

Now this may sound easy. After all, how hard can it be watching over six children. Never taking your eyes off them, never lowering your guard for even a fraction of a second, because you know that they're also watching you with their small, devious eyes, waiting for that one momentary lapse in concentration. So that they can make a dash for freedom - or so you think as you chase after them, only to end up at the toilet.

You would also think that being a 6ft tall male with a loud booming voice would help - which it does... well sort of, because as a male, I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time looking for things that just happen to be sitting right in front of my nose. And the children know it.

So I am continually counting the number of heads over and over in my mind until 'one, two, three, four, five, six... one, two, three, four, five, six' almost seems to become a mystical mantra. Unfortunately, it isn't one that leads to Nirvana. More like paranoia, as they effortlessly switch places with each other just to confuse me.

Then there's the ethical struggle.

This doesn't involve my trying to talk them out of buying that piece of chocolate in the gift shop by extolling the utilitarian virtues of that shiny ruler. It's much more elemental than that.

No. The real ethical question is - should I force them to continue studying some of the more educational aspects of the site, imploring them to look at the incredibly interesting 1940s kitchen - or do I cave in to their incessant whining and let them run off to the play area? Where my job won't be so much to keep an eye out for them, as it will be to watch the exit, so that they can't escape.

The last school trip was particularly nightmarish, because there were more than 20 different buildings to visit and I was supposed to allow them to choose the ones they wanted to see.

Now I know that the organisers were teachers.

And I know that they spend their working day with children. But are they crazy? Don't they know that if you take a single child into a sweet shop and ask them to choose something, you're still going to be there an hour later waiting for them to decide.

Multiply this by six and you get a sense of the predicament I was facing.

There were even a few times when I saw some of the teachers smiling at me.

I'm certain they were thinking: 'Ah ha! It's not as easy as it looks, is it? And we have to put up with this kind of thing week in and week out, as we try to shape your ungrateful children. And all for the measly pittance we're being paid.'

I know this may seem a lot to read into a casual glance, but I'm either very good at doing this, or else I'm slightly delusional.

And if you don't mind, I'd prefer to think that I have a real talent, rather than a real problem.

Of course, it does help to be slightly delusional when shepherding six hyperactive children around.

This way I can say things like: 'You're really going to enjoy this one,' - while keeping a straight face.