In which we find Part-The-First of How To Speak Like Da Yoof, or a plain English guide to understanding your teenager.

It being cold underfoot with the outside snow, the inside underpowered insulation and the internal counter-instinctive desire to keep the heating off for as long as possible, my feet are wearing their seasonal slippers. Bounding upstairs, I miss my footing and come down hard on a carpeted step. No harm done and, more importantly, no one to see.

Day or so later, up I go again and down I come again. Emerging from her room, Eldest laughs and cries out:

Stack!

You what? Stack, she says: it's what you say when someone falls over. Ah. In my day, I say, puffing on my dad pipe, it was Enjoy Your Trip, but she's already (wisely) wandered off.

That evening, chicken with wraps polished off, I'm first to take my plate out into the kitchen. Here's Eldest, again, who plonks down her plate next to mine. Oi, sez I, put yours on top of mine, please. As she does so, and you can see where this is going, I yell Stack! Cue much laughter, at least in my little head.

Now, it's de rigueur at Broom Acres -- at least for me and the kids -- to shout this out whenever we're creating a crockery tower.

Next week: Part-The-Second -- I Went There.