Don't Mention the Lingua Latina!

I ring the Aged Ps, armed with amusing anecdotes. I refuse to let the conversation descend into its usual rant against The State of the Nation, The Weather or What A Terrible Year This Has Been. Mother is gearing up for her annual Annus Horribilis speech early this year, and I am not in the mood for another rehearsal. Bearing this in mind, I have armed myself with a list of prohibited topics so that I can steer a path through the conversation to sunnier themes.

The list is as follows:

Thou shalt not mention Ed Milliband in the same sentence as Disraeli
This is sure to set off a diatribe against the conniving nature of the shifty left who will do anything to get into power. (Trouble is, I sort of agree with this. If Milliband can side with Disraeli, it won't be long before Thatcher gets a mention. But THOU SHALT NOT start this conversation because . . . )

Thou shalt DEFINITELY not mention Thatcher at all EVER
Mother worships at her shrine. The hagiography that ensues at the mere whisper of the woman's name is enough to turn the strongest of stomachs. In fact, come to think of it . . .

Thou shalt not bring up the topic of politics at all!
Which is hard, considering the only other stories in the news at the moment are about sex offenders or child murderers. And she would be bound to take great pleasure in reminding me about that letter to "Jim'll Fix It" about wanting to go in the Tardis.

So, if I can't talk about what's in the news, what else is there to talk about other than the weather?

This is why I have decided to focus on the children and how charming and wonderful they are.

"Hello, it's me."
"Oh, it's you."
"Hello, love!"
The Aged Ps have surpassed themselves. They have picked up the phone as one Aged Being.
"So, how are you?" I ask. I immediately kick myself. This was not the opening move I had planned.
"I'm fine," says Dad.
"Well, you know . . ." Mother begins. "Not so good. What with this dreadful weather. And the news - it's nothing but shifty politicians and disgusting sex offenders, which reminds me! Didn't you once write a letter to--"
"Your grandson is doing ever so well in Latin at the moment!" I shout, in desperation.
Latin?? Why did I have to mention THAT?
"Oh, quid mira et intelligens nepos habemus!" trills Mother.
I groan softly, put my head in my hands and thank the gods that she has not yet mastered Skype as I proceed to bang my forehead quietly on the table.
"Ita vero! Est mirabilie. Est continuans familia traditionem," Dad agrees.
H-e-l-p m-e! I mouth to Not-So-Small-Boy.
"I found a magazine our grandson would like, actually," says Dad.
"Great - a wildlife one?" I ask.
"No. A Latin one," says Dad. "It's full of cartoons and stories and pictures - and it's all in Latin! Isn't that great?"
I cannot take this any more, so I pass the phone to my son.
"Hi Grandpa," he chirps. "Yes . . . yes . . . I love Latin. Did you know that turdus stupidus means stupid thrush! It's so cool - it means you can swear without actually really swearing! And "turdus" is a hilarious word for a bird! And there is this other even more hilarious word "furcifer", which sound like "fuc--"
I grab the phone back.
"So, what did you think about Ed Milliband's One Nation speech?" I ask.
I sit back, close my eyes and let the battle commence.