A walk! It was as if Osama bin Laden had declared he was taking up Massgoing

THERE were two of them and only one of me… Hermione left clear instructions as she departed for the day. The girls were not, on any account, to be allowed spend their time indoors, looking at screens and eating unsuitable food. She would be gone until late, her labours in paid employment to be followed by a stint of committee work with her bridge club or Zumba group. The dames who dance or the trollops who trump, I can never remember which.

Before she went about her business, dearest, darling, disciplined Hermione delivered the full pep talk. She waxed enthusiastic about the benefits of the Irish summer rich with ozone and healthful breezes. She contrasted the sedentary evils of YouTube with the joy of romping through sand dunes and flower filled meadows. She wanted a commitment to taking a lengthy forest walk, with maybe a swim thrown in for good measure.

I nodded in zealous agreement, completely in harmony with the sentiments expressed. The only problem was that the girls were not actually present to hear her rousing words - because they were still in bed.

Young Persephone and her cousin Pippy did not emerge until some two hours after Hermione’s motor had pulled away down the drive which leads to Medders Manor. Pippy is a very intelligent teenager with a mature wit. She is staying with us for a few days during the school holidays, a return visit after Persephone spent some time at her place. During this time, the pair of them sat in a darkened room to watch the complete ‘Harry Potter’ series of films, all eight of them, from merry start to cataclysmic finish without a break.

During their immersion in the movies, it is believed they subsisted on an unrelieved diet of pizza and peanut butter. They hold defiantly to the belief that the vacation is for junk food and box sets of ‘Sherlock’ rather than route marches and beach football.

Coming in around midday after hacking a plague of thistles in the Back Field to death, I found that the girls were now at last up and moving about. They had already cleared the fridge of all black pudding and rashers, as evidenced by the greasy frying pan on the hob and a couple of dirty plates in the sink. They boasted of reviving that great Irish delicacy – fried bread.

I called them over to pass on Hermione’s homily about the life enhancing joys of fresh air and exercise. I left out the bit about the flowery meadows but inserted my own earnestly improvised spiel on the dangers of ingesting too much fat.

The well-intentioned words were greeted with solemn expressions of apparent agreement and bland smiles before they meandered off to continue their exploration of the works of Jennifer Aniston on Pippy’s tablet computer.

It was, frankly, discouraging. So I was greatly cheered when they interrupted my watering of the Potato Beds to declare with great pride that they were going for a walk.

A walk! The girls were going for a walk. It seemed as likely as the late Osama bin Laden declaring his intention to attend weekly Mass. They wandered off down the drive, waving merrily. Of course they were back within a quarter of an hour. The walk extended no further than calling into the local shop where they purchased a pound of butter and sackful of toffees.

The butter was to replace what they had spread with reckless abandon on their lunchtime toast. The toffees were to tide them over while they used the fresh butter to bake shortbread of wonderful taste and stellar calorific values.

I thought I was maybe making some progress when they were persuaded to postpone dinner until the lady of the Manor’s late arrival home.

Then they were found them nestling on the sofa catching up on ‘The Simpsons’ eating a mound of popcorn while they waited for a proper meal…

Hermione lambasted her spouse unmercifully for failure to take command but her words of rebuke directed at the girls were as water off a duck’s back.