How do you suppose a mother feels when her son comes to collect her from a week away with a bunch of women friends, and one of them sticks her head in the car window and says to him: "Did you know your mother likes to talk dirty?" Well, that’s the kind of friends I have, but fortunately I also have sons who can take it.
Well, I have to admit it’s true - occasionally - in the right company - probably female - and if I’m well primed and in the mood! I admit to having written some very rude limericks (under extreme provocation!), and I can enjoy a dirty joke if it’s clever. The point is to be clever, not just dirty.
I also swear when I feel the need. I used to swear as a young woman, but learned to control myself when I got married, as my husband did not like it. Then my boys grew old enough to start bringing back the bad words from school, and gradually I slipped into the old habit. Now, living alone, I am freer than ever to express myself, though I try not to give offence to anyone I may be with.
Mostly, though, because I love language in all its forms, I just like to use its full richness, and am apt to sprinkle my speech and writing with slang, dialect, foreign expressions and swear words, using whatever pops into my head at the time.
But there are things that people do not expect an elderly woman to come out with. I recently dropped in at my village hair salon to make an appointment, and found the girls on their own without the manageress, and with no clients. So I stopped to chat for a moment, then heard myself saying, a propos of some trifling frustration: "It really pisses me off!". There was a stunned silence, then squawks of shocked astonishment, and . . . "Mrs Taylor . . . I never imagined I’d hear you say something like that!" They thought it was a hoot and a good laugh was had by all. Not only that, but since then they have started using my Christian name, which they hadn’t done before!