by Rachel Ragg
As former university teachers, my husband and I are never ones to miss an opportunity to bore our children senseless in the name of increasing their vocabulary.
And so it was that we found ourselves in the car chatting about the word ‘fug’ (as you do on the way back from a day out in the sun).
“Nobody talks about fugs any more,” my husband mused.
“My father does,” I said helpfully. They are of a similar same vintage and similar boarding-school background.
“I know what fug off means,” our just-turned-ten-year-old son said even more helpfully.
“I know what fug is too,” our seven-year-old daughter added.
Uh-oh. Last time we had an F-word conversation, it was about ‘foot’ not being a swear word. As the word had been used in their presence by someone with a Yorkshire accent, I could see how the misunderstanding might have arisen.
“Okay,” I said carefully. “You tell me what fug means.”
Our daughter gave me a withering look.
“A fug is one of those teenage boys who gets drunk and behaves badly in the street.”
We laugh. Not least with relief.