One of my fondest memories of childhood was of the Naked Vicar Show. I wasn't allowed to watch it. It was on too late, and was far too risque. It was an Australian comedy show of the 70s, which today would be terribly dated, but it will always hold a place in my heart. While it was on, I would lie in bed and listen to the TV, and to my mother laughing out loud. My mother had a laugh that was embarrassingly loud to me by the time I was a teenager, but this was when I was younger. It was also when my mother was dealing with learning my father was having yet another affair and soon after he had left us again, pretty much with nothing. So to lie in bed and hear her roaring with laughter, while I kept my hands over my mouth so she couldn't here me laughing along with her (and realise I was awake when I should have been asleep), was precious to me.

I am nothing like my mother in so many ways. I feel like she sometimes looks at me and wonders if there is anything of her in me. But the one thing I seem to have inherited is the laughter. The older I get, the louder it is getting. And I'm embracing it with all my heart.