There are two factors in my favour as I embark on my brave experiment: one is that it’s sunny outside and the other is that at 10 and 8, my sons are not yet teenagers with a Bebo or MySpace habit. If they were, from what I gather, I wouldn’t stand a hope in hell.

I’d put my family’s viewing habits somewhere in the middle of those in Barrie Gunter’s programme. The children do a lot of sport after school and at weekends, but have got into the habit of switching on the computer or TV immediately they come home. My reasoning is that they’re tired and deserve a break, but also if they didn’t, they’d end up scrapping. It also lets me finish my work or, better still, lie on the sofa and read. And I love TV myself. I watch 24, Lost and ER for a couple of hours most evenings while their father plays around online. Although they’ve never been allowed to watch anything before school because a teacher once told me children who do don’t concentrate as well. At weekends, when we want a lie-in, I sort of pretend I don’t know that they’re in front of a screen for up to three hours because I get to go back to sleep.

I asked Gunter whether playing Monopoly all morning was any better than building an empire online. He laughed but agreed probably not.

Ronan, 8, has nightmares the night before we start our ban because we let him watch the comedy Boston Legalwith us and there is a hospital scene of an anorexic girl dying. Earlier he’d come down from the computer to show me his drunken lap-dancing technique. It’s naive of us to think that we don’t already need to monitor what they access and watch.

Day 1 Saturday: Ralph, 10, is nonplussed by the whole experiment. Ronan says that he’s quite excited but then admits to a sinking feeling when he wakes up and remembers that there’s no TV. We’re woken up by the bedroom door slamming open at 7.30am, which hasn’t happened on a weekend since they were toddlers. The call for cricket nets starts at 7.45. Saturday is the morning Hugh, 40, and I usually catch up as he works long hours. No time for that. After cricket we go swimming, then to the local theatre. We get home and sit around a bit aimlessly before supper. A fight breaks out. I’m irritated as I haven’t had any time on my own. Hugh’s fed up that he’s missed his favourite afternoon sports programme. We all go to bed early. Too early for me. I can’t sleep.

Day 2: Wake up to the football being kicked against the door. Raised voices by 7.30am. Ralph asks what time on Friday he’ll be allowed to go back to Fifa 07 on the computer. Out for tennis by 9.30am. It’s like having toddlers again and needing to be at the swings by daybreak. At a football party later, I let them watch the FA Cup semi; it’s too like a punishment to ban them totally from watching sport and Gunter did say that communal, planned viewing was acceptable, particularly if you chat while you’re doing it. Sunday evening, we’ re all tired and fed up with the ban. It’s a long evening. Telly/computer is relaxation and it’s hell without it.

Day 3: Easter holidays, cricket camp all day. They get in my way while they’re waiting to go and I have to send them outside. I guess that’s what parents used to do. When I pick them up, Ralph is very quiet. He’s really, really fed up that he can’t play Fifa to wind down. They both say that they don’t mind the ban in the morning, but the evening really hurts. I feel terrible; Ralph is extremely good-natured and I feel as if I’m punishing him. As the older one, it’s his way of getting away from an annoying younger brother. He sits on his bed and plays cards on his own. Ronan mucks about on his guitar. Gunter said that children who are drawn in by computer games tend to play games offline as well whereas children who love TV often turn to music when it’s not there. We play darts for an hour, which cheers up Ralph as it’s almost a sport. It’s quite fun but I’d rather be reading. Supper is very late.

Day 4: When Hugh comes in from work, it’s quiet as we’re sitting around colouring. The children talk us through their cricket prowess. Tonight Ralph admits that he quite likes reading in bed before he goes to sleep (something that he doesn’t normally do) and that watching morning telly at the weekends makes him feel lethargic. The biggest shock for me is that he says he prefers the four of us sitting around chatting after supper to playing on the computer on his own. Hugh says Ralph is livelier, more full of jokes.

Day 5: Painting by numbers in the morning. Late afternoon, we go out for pizza with some mates to avoid the evening comedown. Later, I crack and watch Desperate Housewives.

Day 6: School. Park afterwards, two hours of football.

When we get home, they’re so worn out, I can’t do it any longer – I let them switch on the TV. I promise they turn it off after an hour so that they can chat to their Dad when he gets home.

Day 7: When I pick them up from school on Friday, they’re beaming that tonight they’ll be allowed back on the computer. Ralph goes straight into the computer room without even taking off his shoes.

The jury is still out whether screen entertainment is clinically addictive but we’re certainly habitual users and it’s me who has allowed that to develop. I vow we’ll cut out an hour each evening because of their positive response to time with their father, but I suspect that it’s like dieting and that we, and the families on Panorama, will slide back into our old habits.

Rather predictably, Gunter’s conclusion is that, like most things, it’s about balance. My conclusion is that getting rid of the screens gives you back an extra three hours a day. Problem is, I’m not sure I want them.

A mother’s tips to cut screen addiction

–– If after the third “time’s up” your children still refuse to budge from the screen, unplug the broadband and hide the little white filter box. Do not let on. Sit back and enjoy the perplexed look on their faces as computer games crash. Very satisfying.
–– Before you go to bed, hide the PlayStation so they can’t sneak on to it in the morning.
–– Take your children on holiday to countries where broadband has yet to make substantial inroads.
–– “Forget” to pack their NintendoDS when you travel away. They will bellyache for hours but the pain will pass and they will soon start to dig up earthworms and whittle sticks.

Kids kit

Lice. Every mother’s nightmare, especially if, like me, you have a four-year-old who likes to sneak into bed at 3am and snuggle up. A child with lice is excusable; a grown-up with the things is a bit worrying.

So, if you have kids at school, chances are that, sooner or later, you will have an infestation – especially at this time of year. The spring half-term holiday is often the time they decide to materialise. Chances are you will be miles away – perhaps abroad. Trying to get a cure for head-lice out of a surly French chemist is no fun, let me tell you. It’s even worse if you’re on holiday with another family: nothing chills the air like one mother discovering the other’s offspring are infested.

Anyway, you might like to know about Nitty Gritty, an aromatherapy solution that really works. It’s much less harsh and foul-smelling than the usual over-the-counter remedies, and is free from pesticides and organophosphates.

It also contains neem oil, which means it also conditions the hair. The excellent website – www.nittygritty.co.uk – tells you everything you need to know, and the company delivers. The starter pack contains its patented nit comb, which is much more thorough and easier to use than conventional nit combs.

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