How to age 6 years in 6 seconds

Adam: "What are you doing on Friday afternoon, Dad?"

Me: "There's nothing on the calendar..."

Adam: "Would you be the Peepo baby for a Skype with my class?"

Me: "WHAT?!"

For non-fans of the wonderful Ahlbergs' books for kids, 'Peepo' is a really popular book about a (Second World War) wartime baby and what he sees in his home and surroundings. The pictures are great, with lots to talk to littles about, in a very different world from today's.

It seems Adam's class of 5-year-olds are studying the war and what it was like for children. My first reaction to his request is 'no' - I am the worst possible fibber. I'm just no good at it! AND I can't abide deceitfulness. I didn't even give my own children all that bullshit about Santa. But then I convince myself that playing a part isn't really fibbing - it's what actors do all the time.

I decide that I would have to be born in 1945 and therefore unable to remember first-hand details about life in the war. However my character has 2 older sisters and a dad in the Army, so would have been told stories about it.

We have a battered copy of the book so I seek this out and spend the next 4 days mugging up on it and getting into character. Well a few minutes, anyway. I find Stanislavski's Method to be most useful. Not to say this isn't stressful; for 4 days I'm worrying about what I'm going to say. It may as well be a presentation at a conference of information managers! I've probably aged the requisite 6 years already.

Friday afternoon, 1:15 comes around.

Blissfully unaware that I am being viewed on a classroom interactive whiteboard rather than a tiny laptop screen, I duly Skype Adam and pretend to be the Peepo baby, now aged 69. I can see the classroom and children and "Mr Rivett" introduces me. I get a nice welcome. I hear about the work they have been doing. I look at some of their writing and drawings. I show them my dad's medals. (One is an RAF medal - but I think we got away with that!)

The class ask some really good questions - about blackout blinds, air-raid shelters, why the toilet was outside, why dad was in the army. All routine, following my extensive preparation. But then the sucker-punch! "Who was in the picture on the living room wall?"!!!!

I'm dumbstruck! It's like waking up next to somebody but not knowing her name! And not having the old stand-by of "Morning, sweetie".

But C comes to the rescue! She desperately thumbs through the book (mercifully off camera) to find the page with the living room and, after a brief pause, I'm able to answer: 'That would be the prime minister, Winston Churchill'. Phew!

The 'Only10 minutes, dad" turned into 25 minutes but was great fun.

Am thinking of taking bookings...