I said before when you asked me about my father that I don't like talking about my parents - that stuff's private. So I'm not going to talk about my mother. But I remember this boy's mother in Argentina when I was a kid. It wasn't easy making friends at first and there was a whole lot of space between us and our nearest neighbors but finally I got to meet the family. There was nine children in the house which seemed incredible to me but she always seemed to give each one an equal amount of her attention. I reckon she must have got up before dawn to do all the things she needed to on the farm as well as look after all those kids and at the time I recall she had four of them under six years old. But even though she looked tired when I think back on it, she never seemed to act it. I spent a lot of time there during holidays and stuff - it was one of the ways I learned the language - but I never once heard her raise her voice. I didn't understand more than half of what she was saying but she always had a smile for me and a cuddle and I was included in everything she did for her own kids. Most of all I remember her laugh - a wonderful warm sound - which is appropriate because I reckon she was one of the warmest people I ever met.