A few weeks back, my husband Stephen, Monty and myself headed to London for an old uni friend’s wedding. We set off after work on Friday to travel from Birmingham to London; for the most part the journey was largely uneventful.

That was until we tried to cross Hammersmith Bridge and a car cut us up to swap lanes. Brakes were slammed, horns hooted and Stephen shouts rather loudly ‘for f@cks sake’. No one was injured, no cars make contact and we continue our journey across the bridge.

Two minutes later, from the back seat a little sing song voice ‘f@cks sake, f@cks sake’…oh the shame, oh the horror!! I turn to Stephen ‘did you hear that’ – looking horrified he confirms what I suspected – what commences…a tirade from me on how we are going to be the parents with the kid at school who uses the f-word!!! He’ll have no friends as their parents won’t let their kids play with him!

Having calmed down, we are now in the process of re-education and trying to convince Monty that what he actually heard daddy shout was “four, five, six”…I’ll let you know how we get on with that one.