I WINCED as I watched them on the telly - all those families stuck in airport lounges or queuing for taxis for days on end, the unfortunate victims of the Spanish coach drivers' strike.

In years gone by, I'd have felt a tiny bit sorry for them, but now the sight was verging on painful. Because now I know what it's like to travel with young children - and those overcrowded, sticky airport terminals were filled with them.

There are some things that just don't mix - children and queues, children and waiting rooms, children and sitting about with nothing to do. It's hard enough to entertain youngsters in a room filled with toys, a TV and a video machine, let alone an airport lounge, or a taxi rank where the only stimulation is the odd suitcase springing open.

When you're planning a holiday, travelling with youngsters is a huge consideration as to where to go. For there really is a limit to the number of times you can stomach hearing the words - usually uttered in a high-pitched whine - "Are we there yet?"

I rarely drive to the end of the street before my own children start asking, which was one of the reasons why we chose the Yorkshire coast for our recent break.

Strapped in their car seats, children make nightmarish passengers, wriggling, squirming and whinging.

Of course there are tips offered by child-rearing books on how to reduce stress while travelling with children, but in my experience these suggestions rarely work for long before dissolving into mayhem.

There you are in a bumper-to-bumper jam on the M62, saying: "I spy with my little eye something beginning with 'c." And when, after ten minutes, both your four and two-year-old fail to come up with 'contraflow', there are tantrums all round.

Tying a bag of small toys to the back of the seat for the children's amusement isn't too great an idea either. I abandoned it after one of my daughters decided to use the little string sack as a sort of catapult, firing a plastic Buzz Lightyear at the back of my head as I drove along the motorway.

Older children might, as my dad imagined, be kept out of mischief by noting car number plates and looking them up in a little book to see what part of the country they come from. What my dad should have realised is that to three children in their early teens, this is about as interesting as watching newly-laid Tarmac dry.

There are always sweets - a guaranteed way of keeping children quiet - but then you run the risk of "Mum, I feel sick..."

We've found tapes to be the best antidote to squabbling. Nursery rhymes or pop compilations will keep the children entertained. Only remember to take them out when you're driving alone.

Ours turn on automatically as soon as I start the engine and, recently, I drove to Leeds with Baa Baa Black Sheep and Old MacDonald blaring out of the windows. I'm so accustomed to these tunes, that I didn't think to turn them off. I kept wondering why I was getting odd looks from other drivers.

My children weren't too bad on the way to Whitby. We only had to stop once for the expected toilet break. And at least we weren't at the mercy of a third party.

Next year we might broaden our horizons and risk going slightly further afield. Maybe Cleethorpes or Skegness. I doubt the bus depots and taxi ranks will be over-burdened there.