I had an embarrassing moment as a writer recently. For years I thought the saying ‘just deserts’ referred to puddings, as if the doling out of one sweet treat over another represented a poetic justice of some kind. What would a punishment be – blancmange? A reward? Salted caramel chocolate tart in my book.

Thank you, Tom Read Wilson, for setting the record straight in your always deliciously enjoyable Word of the Day (or phrase in this instance). I feel I have an awful lot to learn from you and not nearly enough time, although I have to say I rather revelled in being the dunce of the class for this one.

You see I say embarrassing, but I’m not afraid to own up to my linguistic mistakes. In fact, I embrace and find them amusing. I see them as an example of how we can bend language to our will and how we're always, always learning. Our lexicon is not static but constantly shape shifting and evolving like a lava lamp.

So, confession time. For years I thought the bemoaning of a laborious task referred to by a pain in a man’s privates was a ‘bore lake’, justifying this as some sort of logical (but on reflection not remotely sensical) extension of a borehole. Those must be hard to dig, surely?

Bizarrely I think I may also have been influenced by reading Eric Newby’s The Big Red Train Ride and accounts of historic crossings of Lake Baikal by the Trans-Siberian Express when the train was ferried across the lake on ice breakers. You see, lake equals arduous. This is how my brain works.

I do think this is where the difference between written and spoken language comes in. The process of writing words and phrases down forces you to assess their meaning and construction with greater scrutiny (and of course spellcheck is always there to give a polite reminder of your idiocy). But if you’ve only ever heard a term or expression in dialogue then you’re none the wiser.

It also demonstrates my view that in order to write you need to read, read, read. If I'd read ‘just deserts’ in a novel (maybe I have) I might have become better acquainted with its meaning. Have I ever seen ‘bore lake’ written down? No, of course I haven’t. Until now of course and you must wipe it from your retinas immediately.

My eldest son, aged nearly seven, is a proficient and avid reader and I’m beginning the wonderful journey of discovery again with my four-year-old. Together we’ve been reading a set of short stories set in South Africa told to the author, Alastair Gibson, by his father, so lots of mid-flow explanations of colloquialisms and context are needed. Far from interrupting our experience, we find it fun.

It's a while since my foreign language skills have been stretched but I was quite skilled in Spanish and French at school thanks to spending my earliest years in Madrid and having a father who was an incredible linguist. One of the things that always seems to be referenced when learning languages is ‘getting the gist’ of what’s being said. I think that applies to our mother tongue too.

I thought I would look to others for a final example of linguistic contortion. One of my absolute favourites is my former boss telling a story over a well-soaked dinner and insisting that she had been ‘on the profiteroles’ of a group when in fact she was ‘on the periphery’. It’s one of the most delightful misrepresentations of language I’ve ever heard. You see it all comes back to desserts.