Perhaps you have never thought much about guinea pigs. Try to maintain this commendable position for as long as you can. Or, if you are curious about guinea pigs, there is always Guinea Pigs World Forum on the web.

That'll tell you all you ever needed to know about guinea pigs . . . and a whole lot more.

However, there are those of us who have had guinea pigs thrust upon us.

By the people we live with. Who volunteered to look after guinea pigs.

For three weeks. While their sister is in America.

And so Sweetheart and Princess came into our lives. Except that Sweetheart's owner wasn't too sure that Sweetheart was her pet's name. It's tough when you are six. "I don't really like the name Sweetheart anymore, " said the proud owner. "I just call her Sweetie or . . . I don't know. Bye."

Guinea pigs are big on accessories. Whojumiflip and Princess arrived accompanied by two large cages and a lot of plastic bags filled with straw and a feeding bowl inscribed, rather disappointingly, with the word guinea pig. Just in case you forgot who they were.

If only you could forget. Friends and relatives were extremely unhelpful. "Surely there are kennels for guinea pigs, " they said airily. There are, and we're living in them. "Rodents, " they said. "They give rats a good name." As if that were possible.

But mostly our warm and loving circle of emotional support had just one thing to say about guinea pigs and that was "See ya!"

Except for a wonderful couple of days, when the guinea pigs went to stay on the northside in a house with a dog and a couple of cats, they have been our responsibility ever since.

The guinea pigs had a great time on the northside, running around and rubbing noses with the dog. They jumped in the air, which, as we all know from Guinea Pigs World Forum, is a sign of guinea-pig happiness. Then we got the phone call: take them back.

The guinea pigs returned to the monotony of our back garden.

Guinea pigs make a strange sound, like Donald Duck under water. Guinea pigs eat their own faeces, straight out of their bums. Which is nice. I've never actually seen this fascinating sight, because I try to look at the guinea pigs as little as possible. But Guinea Pigs World Forum says that you must not stop the guinea pigs doing it (as if. . . ) because they need the protein.

During the day, the guinea pigs live in a large cage in the garden, which is a sort of guinea pig Guantanamo.

On top, we place their smaller cage, the old trap door from the attic and a drawing board. Because guinea pigs are very susceptible to sunstroke.

Occasionally I shove in a bit of clover.

But mostly I just swear at the guinea pigs, because Guantanamo blocks my route to the washing line and to the compost heap and humans have their routes through the forest too.

When the nights were colder, the guinea pigs were removed from Guantanamo and placed in their smaller cage in the kitchen.

I consider this disgustingly unhygienic and a health hazard. You come down in the morning and the whole place smells of straw; a nice smell but somehow incongruous when you're trying to have your damn breakfast.

And now it's almost over. The baser half of me is wondering what sort of super-fantastic present you get for looking after revolting pets for idle holidaymakers. The better half . . . the one who has fed them and changed their bedding and peeled carrots for them on a regular basis . . . is saying "Look, we're lucky we didn't get the fish to mind as well."

The fish are in an inner-city office.

One of them has already died, and the hunt is on for a replacement. Next year, we're taking the fish.