Just laugh off your worries
ON a cold and dull bank holiday Monday, I make my way to a room on the third floor of an old Georgian house, on Baggot Street in Dublin.
Outside the door are discarded shoes. I am late and from outside I can hear howls of laughter, pounding footsteps and the din of general silliness in the room. It is my first laughter-yoga class. I have yet to go in, but I feel like a bit of an eejit.
