Oh no, it's Red Nose Day on Friday.

Yet another day of dressing-up. This time I'm prepared. I've got the red noses, the red hair spray, the red hair bobbles, red tights, and a host of other red things just in case.

I've gone to this trouble because I anticipate the usual nightmarish night before' scenario. As my children are getting in the bath, or going to bed, they will casually say: "Mummy, we have to dress up tomorrow."

They generally say it as I am pouring a glass of wine, getting ready to sit down to watch TV or eat a meal.

The effect these words have on me, and my reaction to them, is not unlike a volcano erupting.

To have a request for anything red, including a press-on nose - which I once found myself searching for in Asda at 10.30pm (thank heaven for 24-hour supermarkets) - is bad enough.

Worse, are the special days devoted to specific periods. World War ll Day, Victorian Day, Viking Day, you name it, they've had it. And there are school plays, concerts and dance shows on top.

Recently, my daughters' school has had a run on dress-up days. It has got to the point where I automatically place a Medieval tunic, Roman toga or knight's chainmail on their radiators for the following morning, rather than their normal gear.

Last term they held a Decade Day', where the children were asked to chose a costume from a certain period in time. "Can't you go as 2006?" I pleaded, after a last-minute, 10pm request for outfits.

After an hour spent rummaging through drawers, they both settled on a Fifties tops and skirt (both keepsakes from the days when I really was slim), plus handbags and gloves.

The week before last was World Book Day, when the these was a favourite character from a book. I got off lightly when they chose Matilda (blue dress, red ribbon), and Clarice Bean (white blouse, pinafore dress, hair slides).

I thanked my lucky stars I hadn't encouraged them to read Lord of the Rings or any other fantastical literature. I doubt even Asda would adequately fulfil the need for a Mutant Jedi Three-Faced Ninja Toad or some such sci-fi monster.

Then there are characters from Beatrix Potter, which means digging out all your old furs and putting your child at risk of serious assault from animal liberationists.

There are undoubtedly parents in this world who have special cupboards full of stick on cats' ears, rabbits' tails, and webbed feet, alongside drawers divided into decades, from Early Jurassic to present day. To them, a last minute request for a Walter Raleigh-style cod-piece or a convincing water vole costume would present no problem whatsoever.

I hate those parents. Thank heavens they are in the minority.

I've got to thinking that dress-up days and the stress they cause to parents could present a business opportunity. Last-minute airline flights made multi-millionaires of its founders. I reckon Last Minute Dress-Up would triple what they amassed. With speedy, overnight deliveries of everything from suits of armour to Hawaiian grass skirts, the phone lines would be red hot.