Peter Rhodes on a Star Trek landmark, the Breadstick Party and cops who aren't up to coppering

Our changing language. Thank you for your examples of the nursery-talk of children and grandchildren that has found a place in your grown-up family conversations. It is somehow comforting to know there are adult discussions in which policemen are sleepymen, squirrels are squiggles and biscuits with jam are Dommie Dadgens.

One reader tells me of a primary-school child who is convinced David Cameron was Mr Corona and Mr Farage led the Breadstick Party. Another has a little lad who believes there are two sorts of cars, saloons and hunchbacks.

Incidentally, regarding the above, it seems some would-be police officers really are sleepy. Or at least too idle to work night shifts. Northamptonshire's chief constable Nick Adderley has warned that some graduate entrants to the police are “sadly lacking” in life experience, unwilling to face violence and are often “a bit taken aback by the role.” Some didn't even realise they were expected to work nights and weekends.

This is a puzzle. Of all professions, none is more relentlessly examined in drama, documentaries and popular culture than policing. From Dixon to Luther, we've seen the job up close and deeply personal. How can a graduate get as far as filling in the application forms without realising that crime happens at night and that some thugs are, well, a bit thuggish?

Meanwhile, the Nursery Snots linger on. By a spot of bad timing our 15-month grandson developed his first phlegmy, coughy, snorty, nostril-bubbling cold at the same time as he discovered the art of showing affection to grown-ups with a kiss. It is like having a slug melt on your neck.

Poorly days require poorly food and I bet every family has its own variation. In that superlative comedy Early Doors, Ken's mother Jean (Rita May) swears by “eggs chopped up in a cup.” In my family the sovereign remedy was chunks of white bread soaked in warm milk with plenty of sugar, a delicacy known as pobbies. In childhood we regarded pobbies as a miracle cure-all, held in reserve to combat the worst of infections.

With hindsight, I suspect it was simply an instant snack, knocked up by frazzled mums who had quite enough housework to do without cooking an extra meal.

Congratulations, Captain Kirk. William Shatner is reflecting on reaching 90. I met him way back in 1983 and he was a great interview; friendly, helpful, intelligent. He looked good back then. He looks even better for a man of 90, possibly as a result of his veggie diet. In '83 I wrote: “That famous jaw is still rock-steady. When the photon banks have gone and Scottie cannae give ye more power, when there's Klingons on the starboard bow and even Spock is raising half an eyebrow in alarm, this is the sort of all-American jaw you look for.”

He's still got it. Long may he trek.