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I have mused over this issue for some time. Why do so many people mistake poets for pedagogues? I have come to the conclusion that pedagogues charge higher rates, and thus the matrons turn to their poet when they have grandchildren who need entertaining.

It is difficult to say no to a valued patron. First she gushes about her grandchildren. Then she mentions in passing that her daughter has dumped them on her for a full month this summer. Finally with moistening eye and trembling limp she wonders whether you could entertain them for a day.

Finally I broke down under the subtly increasing pressure and gave in. I made one or two rules. I would take them for a picnic, we would be accompanied by a maid who would do the technical stuff, (mopping up the vomit, emptying wee out of their shoes, that sort of thing) and…