SO there I was last Saturday night, exhausted beyond belief with a long night's babysitting ahead of me.

Exhausted?

Well yes, because a crowd of us had just finished walking 14 miles in the icy cold wind and rain.

Normally, nearing the end of such a walk, all that keeps me going is the thought of a very long relaxing soak in a hot bubble bath and a glass of wine with some calming music.

However, this Saturday that was not to be.

No. Far from it.

And the reason was that I had I'd promised to look after my seven-year-old grandchildren, Eilidh and Taylor.

"You sure you're still OK to babysit?" my daughter Jenna asked while adding, "Because they've been out in the driveway for the last half hour with their overnight bags waiting on you."

What could I say to that except: "I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Unfortunately for me, on the long drive home from Arrochar, my legs had seized up and when I attempted to get out of the car, I was like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz as I found it almost impossible to stand upright and put one foot in front of the other.

Sure enough the kids were hyper as they jumped like wee spring lambs enthusiastically in the driveway while I feigned a smile before shouting: "Brilliant. You're all packed up and ready to go."

I bid farewell to my daughter who was wasting no valuable babysitting time, and already had a glass of Prosecco in her hand with party music blaring in the background.

"Can we...? Can we...? Can we...?" blared from the back seat before I had even finished belting them in.

And, as I attempted to wedge my aching body back in behind the steering wheel, I thought to myself: "OMG this is going to be a very long night."

So, after herding them into the house, I lined them up like soldiers to set some ground rules.

"I have just walked a very very long way," I said.

"Fourteen miles to be exact."

"That's like walking from Airdrie to Glasgow ..." I explained, beginning my plea for a bit of respite.

"So, I need 20 minutes to soak in the bath before we start any games."

Both kids shrugged their shoulders.

Clearly they couldn't have cared less if I had just walked from John O' Groats.

Distance meant nothing to them.

They just wanted their fun.

So after a swift dip in the bath, the kids insisted on 'helping' me make dinner.

Half an hour later, with the kitchen like a bomb site, they speedily ate their food and it was all systems go.

"Can we ... ? Can we ...? Can we...?, " filled the living room.

"Here we go again," I thought.

It was time to take action.

As all flexibility had now long gone and my legs were buckling from under me I had to think quickly.

"Listen," I told them.

"I've a brilliant game that I used to play with my mum and dad when I was a wee girl."

Quietness ensued for the first time since picking them up.

"Why don't we play at hotels?" was my brilliant suggestion.

"How do we play at hotels?" Eilidh inquired.

"Can I be the waiter?" offered Taylor, quickly grasping the nature of the game.

"Yep. You're getting the gist of things," I encouraged.

"You see, this is a posh hotel, and Taylor and you are the wine waiter," I elaborated to Eilidh.

"Eilidh, you are the food waiter," I announced

Their eyes lit up with enthusiasm while I winced at the pains shooting through my legs.

I handed each of them a tea towel, pen and a note pad.

"Now, a waiter always carries a towel in case anything gets spilt, and a pen and a pad to take down orders," I explained pointing to their tools of the trade.

Sitting comfortably with my legs raised on a footstool, I put on a posh voice and beckoned Taylor who stood in front of me with the tea towel draped over his arm and his pen and pad at the ready.

"I would like to order a glass or Rose wine please."

Taylor's was writing furiously on his pad.

"With three ice cubes in a nice long glass," I continued.

As he eagerly scurried off to the kitchen with his order, Eilidh was next in line.

"Could I please order a bowl of crisps with some chocolates on a side plate?"

Eilidh was delighted with her new role as food waiter and dashed to the kitchen.

After a lot of clinking, slamming of cupboard doors and arguing over who was serving what, my glass of wine along with a large bowl of snacks arrived.

Ah. Luxury. I smiled at my cunningness and manipulation of two seven-year-olds.

The wine seemed to be easing the pain in my legs and I was really enjoying my babysitting as my two personal waiters ran back and forth after me until ...

"Right. Nana Bell. We love playing hotels. Now it's your turn to get us drinks and crisps."

I was quick to knock the idea of me waiting on them. "How about a DVD?"