Laughter Lines.

I’ve noticed that I’ve developed crease lines to the sides of my cheek bones when I laugh. I’ve seen the same characteristic in some Irish people, so maybe it’s further corroboration of the evidence suggesting my male ancestry came from Ireland about four generations ago.

I can’t say I like it much, so I think I’d better stop laughing. Not that it will be much of an imposition; I laugh only about once every five years on average anyway, and I always feel silly afterwards.

I smile plenty, and I chuckle quite a lot, but my laughter button is tuned to a very narrow range of frequencies. It usually takes a small but finely pitched piece of sublime silliness to do the trick, the sort that occasionally hopped out of the mind of the esteemed Spike Milligan – himself an Irishman, of course.

I wish I could laugh more easily, but I’m just not made that way. I take comfort in this infirmity from the attitude of the Mediaeval Church: if God had meant me to laugh, he would have made me a monkey.