“Ok everyone, time for Give us a Clue” I said.

“What the hell is that” asked Nathan.

I held back the sigh and started to explain. He quickly cut in “Oh, you mean Charades” Typical. Ever since he married Rachel he had been looking down his nose at us.

Everybody groaned and started to shuffle about. I don't know why I bother. It took ages to find games that everyone could join in, including the kids and nana.

After two disastrous rounds, including a word that rhymed with ducking from nana we decided to go back to the old 'favourite', the label game.

Nathan asked if we couldn't go for a bracing walk instead. Nana obviously wasn't keen; we all saw her flicking Nathan the v-sign. The mirror image of appalled adults and delighted children had me hastily starting the game, handing out labels and pens.

It started off promising, as usual, but soon descended into grinding dullness as nana had no hope of guessing that she was Tracy Beaker and after twenty minutes we all decided that TV was looking the far more attractive option.

The downhill spiral continued as we started ripping the labels off our foreheads and the realisation dawned that I had bought the wrong ones. The labels were taking about three layers of skin off with them and the children refused to have them removed. Rachel went to soak the labels off the children while I took nana's off away from their listening ears.

At last I poured myself a large drink and switched on the telly. Who would think the 27th Dec could look so enticing, knowing the 'festivities' are behind you for at least another 363 days. And next year – definitely no games.