Three days into the summer holidays and my brain is frazzled.

Not because of the kids they've been brilliant.

But because I've got a tower of leaflets, magazines and pamphlets precariously swaying from side to side. One draught from under the door and they'll be over, covering the whole of the living room floor.

And what does this paper mountain contain? Information, reams and reams of it. Packed full with suggestions as to how to amuse your children over the summer break.

It goes something like this: Monday: 8am to noon abseiling, 1 hour lunch, 1pm to 3pm archery, 3pm to 5pm trampoline. Home.

Tuesday: 8am to 11am tennis, 11.05am to 1pm swimming, 1 hour lunch, 1pm to 5pm rock climbing. Home. And so it goes on.

There are football fortnights, water sport weekends and diving days. There is roller blading, kick boxing and juggling.

Then there are the alternative' options workshops teaching children so-called life skills. Like how to make a lamp shade from pieces of tree bark, or how to fire an earthenware pot using only three twigs and a handful of pine cones.

As a working parent, I realise how grateful we should be to have so many options for childcare over the six week break. But, on the other hand, it's all a bit too much.

Some children, I know, will go from one activity to another, back-to-back. Basket weaving to rollerblading, puppet making to cycle proficiency. All summer long, with no time to be themselves, to use their imagination, to find their own fun.

No wonder the kids of today hang around their parents asking: "What are we doing today, mum?" They are so accustomed to being given things to do.

Getting all these offers of courses and workshops makes me wonder what parents did when I was growing up in the 1960s and 70s. My mum was at home, so we didn't need looking after, but I don't remember being given anything to do.

I remember kicking around the house with my friends during the holidays, making a go-kart out of an old suitcase and the bottom of a pram, and dragging the dressing-up box out of the loft to put on clothes five sizes too big.

There was no question of us being shipped off to a remote sports field for a three-hour javelin-throwing lesson or a morning's candle making workshop.