Mind your language.

I've always thought I'm relatively clean-mouthed, that you'd be unlikely to hear me effing and blinding unless something truly ghastly had happened.

I worked in newsrooms for almost two decades where swearing was rife. I definitely did my share of cursing and was soon dubbed the bolshy cow by my first editor.

I've never had an issue with bad language although there's one word - yes that one, you know the one I mean - that has never and will never pass my lips. in fact, probable hypocrite that I am, I once gave someone merry hell for daring to utter that four lettered obscenity in my house. I like to think that bad language isn't a part of my daily speech and that I only swear when sorely aggravated or under pressure.

It would appear, though, that  I'm living under a mis-apprehension and am actually far more foul-mouthed than I thought, presumably sufficiently so that I'd give any trooper a run for their money, well according to son number two anyway.

We were listening to music on the terrace here in France last night taking it in turns to play our favourite tracks. He put on Tinie Tempah. Now I've heard his music in passing but have never really listened to it, so I was somewhat startled by his liberal use of the f word, and said to the 10-year-old that I wasn't sure I really wanted him listening to it.

'Oh for goodness sake Mum', he announced, 'I hear it all the time from you'!