WAS I the only one caught out with the English Bank Holiday last Monday?

Sure enough, I prepared my pay-in slip and a bag of pre-counted cash savings and headed off to the Royal Bank of Scotland in Sauchiehall Street during my lunch break.

From a distance it looked unusually quiet, but as I got closer I realised it was very quiet.

So quiet, in fact, that there wasn't a soul inside, because it was closed.

A number of bemused customers were mulling about outside when one asked: "Why is the bank closed on a weekday"?

"Oh," I explained. "I've just realised, it's an English Bank Holiday."

"An English Bank Holiday?" Questioned a bewildered customer. "Well, what's that got to do with us in Scotland?"

"No idea," I said.

"This'll no happen after the referendum," pointed out a young bright spark.

And not wanting to get involved in a futile discussion I put my small bag of savings back into my bag and headed towards a card shop.

On entering the busy shop, low and behold I was greeted with a whole wall of Christmas cards. Yes, Christmas cards. And apparently they had been on display since mid August.

A somewhat puzzled elderly lady was sifting through the cards when she turned to me and asked.

"Is it nearly Christmas, hen?"

Obviously the poor soul thought her mind was playing tricks. And who could blame her.

"No," I assured her.

"It's nowhere near Christmas. It's only August and the kids are barely back at school after the summer holidays."

And I thought to myself. Not only are the seasons undefined nowadays but so are the shops.

Valentine's cards in January, Easter bunnies in February and Christmas cards in August. No wonder we get confused.

The following Friday I was, a little apprehensively, looking forward to my grandchildren, seven-year-olds Eilidh and Taylor, coming to stay the night.

After all, like most seven-year-olds they can be a bit of a handful.

Looking like a couple of wee back-packing donkeys, they arrived laden with teddies and games.

However, after half an hour Eilidh started crying when she spotted a doll which was sitting in the corner of my living room.

"She's terrified of dolls," Taylor told me.

"She thinks they come alive at night, and she has nightmares."

However, no amount of reasoning with Eilidh made any difference.

I tried everything I could think of to assure her that it was just a doll.

Seeing I was getting nowhere, Taylor finally butted in.

"Nanna Bell. What age are you?"

Wondering what my age had to do with dolls I foolishly asked: "What age do you think I am?"

After peering at my face he announced very matter of fact: "91."

"91!" I exclaimed before sarcastically adding. "I'm actually 96."

But as we know, sarcasm is wasted on children, and Taylor turned to Eilidh in an attempt to allay her fears.

"You see Eilidh," he pointed out.

"Our Nana Bell has been on this planet for 96 years.

"Yes, 96 years. And in all of those years she has never ever seen a doll come alive."

"Isn't that right Nana Bell?"

"That's right Taylor."

I thought it pointless arguing about my age, so I left it at that and funnily enough, for the first time in a while, Eilidh did sleep through the night.

The next morning the three of us headed to the Riverside Museum and the same theme of conversation continued.

"Nana Bell, did you have your own horse and cart when you were growing up?"

"Nana Bell, did you ever see any dinosaurs when you were our age"?

"Nana...". By the time I dropped them off home my ears were ringing and I felt 106 never mind 96.

Kissing them goodbye my teenage niece Emma asked me for a lift.

"No problem," I thought. Some grown up chat at last.

But as we were driving Emma suddenly commented: "I think that's a brilliant idea".

"What's that Emma?" I was curious.

"A mobile crèche," she replied, pointing in front of us.

"A mobile crèche," I genuinely had no idea what she was on about.

"Where?"

"There," Emma pointed again.

"Look it tells you on the back of the van, 'MIND THE WEANS.'"

I nearly crashed my car when the penny dropped and I realised that Emma thought the ice cream van in front of us was in fact, a mobile crèche.

"That van sells ice cream," I explained.

"Ice cream too," she smiled.

"The kids must love that."