BEFORE I go any further, I should acknowledge the fact that my mum, now approaching 93, is a ruddy marvel.

Still independent, still doing her own shopping, still keeping her garden immaculate, and still doing a daily Codeword puzzle. We know how lucky we are that she’s in such good nick.

However, as magnificent as she is, she’s developed a terrible stubborn streak over her increasing hearing problems.

She grudgingly accepts that she has tinnitus – or “tittyness” as she calls it – in one ear. However, she refuses pointblank to go and see about getting help.

“Mum, you need a hearing-aid – it would make a massive difference,” I said to her during our daily phone chat the other day.

“Sorry, you’ll have to repeat that, son,” she said. So, I did. Four times.

And then, she uttered those four words that are a prelude to one of her infamous moans: In the old days…

“In the old days, people spoke slowly and clearly and pronounced their words properly,” she went on to tell me.

“But, these days, people mumble and talk too fast. It’s not my hearing that’s the problem, it’s modern society. You all need to slow down and speak properly,” she said before inevitably returning to the old days to hammer home her message.

“In the old days, you had to speak properly because there was a war on,” she declared.

Yes, of course. We’d never have defeated Hitler if we’d mumbled. Churchill’s iconic ‘We’ll fight them on the beaches,’ speech would never have had the same inspirational impact if he’d gone a bit too quick and hadn’t emphasised his vowels.

I’ve tried debating the point several times, telling her as gently as possible: “No, Mum, it’s not modern society – it’s your hearing. You just need a bit of help.”

But all I get back is: “You’re going to have to speak slower, son.” And, so, the torment goes on.

As if all of that’s not enough, she’s even been throwing Nat King Cole at me lately: “You all need to speak like Nat King Cole – you can hear every word he says,” she said at the weekend when he came on the car radio.

“But, Mum, he’s singing in stereo – he’s not having an everyday conversation with you,” I argued.

“It doesn’t matter – he’s clear as a bell,” she replied.

So, there’s the answer. It’s not a hearing-aid my Mum needs – we all just have to sing at her in the style of Nat King Bloody Cole. On the bus, in the shop, in the bank. It doesn’t matter.

On top of the fact that we’re all modern-day mumblers, she’s also not happy with my older brother.

“It’s John’s fault,” she moaned during our most frustrating telephone conversation yet at the weekend.

“He put a new battery in the landline phone, and he hasn’t turned the sound back up properly. That’s why I’m struggling to hear you.”

With the patience of a saint, I pointed out that I was talking to her on her mobile, not the landline.

“Well, it’s still his fault,” she insisted.

Some people just don’t listen, do they?