Every year, we ask the team to look back on the previous 12 months and think about an experience they’ve had and what they learned from it. And this year is no exception.
So, without further ado, here they are for you to enjoy. And while you’re reading through them, why not do a little bit of naval-gazing and reflect on your 2025, too?
Head of Happiness and CEO, Stephanie Davies
At Laughology, we talk a lot about brilliant blunders: the useful mistakes you make when pushing yourself. My blunder was, sadly, not one of those. It was a classic, avoidable, end-of-year, brain-fried, sloppy mistake.
Something that has now become known as ‘The Monkey/Chimp Incident’.
After weeks of wrestling with the joys of cancelling our Survey Monkey subscription, I finally admitted defeat and handed the job to my brilliant EA. All I needed to do was give her one simple instruction: “Please delete Survey Monkey.”
But in a haze of dyslexic word-swapping, end-of-year pressure, my menopause brain, and the questionable decision to answer messages while boarding a train, I typed the immortal words: “Please delete Mailchimp.”
My EA, being excellent, double-checked. Unfortunately, she did so while I was half on a platform, half in a carriage, fully distracted. When she said, “It’s warning me that all data will be deleted. Are you sure?”, I replied, “Absolutely!”
And so, twenty years of carefully tagged contacts… vanished.
We had backups, in part, but not for everything, and we lost our tags and setups, which have now gone to the great data jungle in the sky. I took full responsibility. I’d ignored our process, rushed the handover and, crucially, used the wrong primate.
Which brings me to the bit that really didn’t help: my husband’s attempt at comfort, delivered with all the tact of a Victorian zoologist.
He gently explained that chimps and monkeys are not the same, and therefore, I couldn’t even use dyslexic word-mixing as an excuse. This feedback, you will be unsurprised to hear, was not met with the serene gratitude normally associated with a Head of Happiness.
The learning?
Slow down. Follow the process. Never answer critical messages on trains. And, above all, never mix up your primates when data is involved.
So, if you haven’t heard from us in a while, it’s not you, it’s me.Please sign up again. We really do love you – and I’m now banned from deleting anything more complex than a spam email.
Sarah Creegan
At Laughology, we do annual stand-up comedy training with our own comedians. It’s highly competitive, particularly when Stephanie Davies’ team goes up against Dave Keeling’s. If you know either of them, you’ll be able to imagine!
This year, though, the non-comedians in the team were all set the personal development target of completing an external stand-up course, including performing a 5-minute showcase set – potentially with a baying crowd.
When I say, ‘we were all set the target’, as Laughology’s Internal Lead for People, Learning and Development, it was me who chatted to the Laughologists about this in their 1:1s last January. Which meant that I had, I felt, an obligation to go first; to ignore the knocking knees; to JFDI!
What did I learn?
- It’s one thing to use humour and laughter during sessions, with audience participation and fun activities to help people learn. It’s quite another to stand on a stage in the back room of a pub, microphone in hand, memory blank and ‘the gulp’ in your throat. A really helpful reminder of how others might feel during our presentation skills training, or at the end of programmes when they share their learning journeys.
- As facilitators, we talk to leaders all the time about role-modelling great behaviours, including having a growth mindset and pushing yourself out of your comfort zone. Being shoved into the learning pit myself and coming out the other side helped me to empathise even more with those we work with every day.
- It turns out I love writing comedy. There’s a definite theme to my humour and, unsurprisingly, to folks who know me, I can be a bit sweary. But, to find out more about that, you’ll have to come and watch – if and when I do it again.
Kerry Leigh
This year, I took a solo show to Edinburgh. It got a four-star review, I’ll have you know! I had a ball performing nearly every day for 3 weeks, but I also completely burned out. I knew before I went that it would be hard work, but there is a difference between knowing and doing.
As well as performing, I had to work hard every day to get bums on seats, competing against 3500 other shows. This is no mean feat. I met some other fab performers, but often they had a team of friends/performers promoting their show, which meant they could take turns conserving their energy.
I tried hard to listen to my body, rested when I could, even made it to the beach for a few swims and recruited some other wild swimmers as audiences, which they loved. I ate fairly well. I didn’t drink. So why did I crash when I came home?
For much of the time in the weeks of ‘hard work’, I felt very happy. I was doing the thing I loved in front of (mostly small) audiences who reciprocated by getting up on stage and dancing with me. There was almost daily connection and positive feedback.
Due to climate change, it was even sunny every day in Edinburgh… in August (this is unprecedented!) and I spent time walking, flyer-ing and connecting with people in the sun. I also packed a lot into the weeks and months leading up to the Fringe, a lot of which was really fun stuff, but it was a LOT.
Then I came home to the daily grind of laundry, parenting, and work/life admin that I’d had nearly a month off from, on top of my dad having a major op in hospital and being very ill afterwards, so visits were daily. He’s out the other side now, thanks to our beloved NHS! I cringe as I recall turning up at the hospital dressed as Freddie Mercury to ‘cheer my dad up’. Looking back, I suspect this was as much for me as it was for him – a subconscious: ‘Hey, look at me! Aren’t I funny?!’ to get a hit of attention.
So, what have I learned? I can’t do everything all at once. It’s OK to ask for help. And I definitely want to get better at planning ahead for all events, whether they are social, creative or work-based. I need to consider how much energy they will take up and at what cost to myself and those around me.
I’m starting to understand what people mean when they say, ‘Be kind to yourself’. It doesn’t necessarily mean you have to have a candlelit bath and put up a ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ sign. To me, it means stop, think, slow down, plan. And doing this won’t make me boring; it will make me better.
Signed, Kerry Leigh, aged 49 and almost an adult xx
Laura Drury
‘Eventful’ is the word I have chosen to describe 2025. I’ve had some fab opportunities and experiences, and, as I firmly believe life is what you make it, sometimes putting myself out there with a big smile and a twinkle in my eye. If you don’t ask, you don’t get, right?
But asking for things isn’t always easy, particularly when it’s asking for help – and that was my biggest challenge this year. Despite running sessions on resilience and listening to your body, I have always proudly lived up to my dad’s work ethic of keeping on going until an unexpected and somewhat inconvenient bug took me out like a strike in a bowling alley. Which was when I had to ask the Laughology tribe for help so I could get back to the pins.
It was hard to ask because they are such a great gang, who all work incredibly hard, and I didn’t want to add to that load. But what does that have to do with what I learned this year? Well, the support and love (along with a healthy dose of mockery to keep it real) made me realise that our sessions aren’t popular and our customers don’t return simply because they’re fun, engaging and the learning sticks, but because we practise what we preach, we live up to our values – and it shows in all that we do.
I am so lucky to have them! And yes, they are lucky to have me too…
Victoria Maitland
This year, I have mostly been learning how to multitask to the extreme. Of course, deep down I know the science tells me that brains aren’t meant to multitask well, but how, how does this translate to the stupidly difficult task of being a mum? This year, I went from one child to two, and whilst I was assured that being pregnant and having a toddler was the hardest thing ever, I’m not so sure having two little ones is really any easier.
The guilt of not being able to give undivided attention anymore, the constant brain fog of deciphering who needs to eat and sleep when, and trying to get them to like each other, means I am constantly task-switching. I am also, quite frankly, a superhero if I do say so myself.
Even through sleep deprivation, it has reminded me how adaptable to change we can be and how wanting to make it work inevitably means you can find a way, and even enjoy it… But it does get easier, right? Someone? Anyone?
Louisa Rodriguez
Another year of spreading happiness and learning with Laughology! It’s been a fast one – and taking a moment to pause and reflect reminds me just how many brilliant moments there have been. And, as always, they’ve come from the people I’ve worked with and the things they share during workshops — which, to be honest, is exactly why I love being a Happiness Consultant for Laughology.
From participants proudly (and with happy curiosity) announcing that they’d only just discovered what Tinder was, to meaningful conversations about inclusion and equity, it’s been a year full of brilliant moments. I also loved speaking at the Cash for Kids Christmas conference (the only situation where you’d catch me wearing a Christmas jumper in October) and supporting the team as they prepared for their Mission Christmas campaign.
This year has also brought plenty of learning in our ever-tech-reliant world. Always be prepared for when it goes wrong — which mostly means keeping calm, carrying on and smiling, because no one needs to know that everything behind the screen is melting down. I’ve had the black screen of doom on Zoom, Teams gremlins interrupting webinars and TVs that decided to play games with my PowerPoint.
But my biggest learning this year? Being braver and taking more risks. I was working in Borneo earlier this year with a group of young people, and I talked to them about how a rich life involves saying ‘yes’, even when you don’t feel ready. Two weeks after returning, I found myself doing my first stand-up comedy gig at the Edinburgh Fringe and thought, “Well, here you go, time to put those words into practice.” I survived, I loved it – and it’s encouraged me to experiment even more with delivery.
Alison Carter
As a children’s facilitator, I often fill my days with presenting and delivering high-energy, playful workshops filled with a lot of jumping and clapping – and as much as it gives me all the dose of happy hormones I could want, I often feel very much in my comfort zone.
This year, I’m pleased to say that I’ve definitely moved out of it! It’s been an absolute joy to not only observe some fantastic Laughologists “do their thing” but also to work alongside them – delivering to actual grown-up people, with real responsibilities and everything!
At times it felt as though I was about to do an Argentinian tango with a Strictly pro with my own shoelaces tied together, but I’m incredibly lucky to work with such supportive, funny and generous people. What I’ve learned is that we are all still children, really, just with bigger shoe sizes. The curiosity of youth still exists within us all; we just need reminding that it’s there and to exercise it.
So, I look forward to jumping and clapping at a training day near you all very soon!
Selina Brown
This year has flown by faster than a basket of warm bread and butter disappearing at dinner— tragically, I’m allergic to both. This year has thrown plenty of lessons my way and I’ve learned the most when things begin to go off script. Like the time I delivered an energetic ADHD awareness webinar to over 300 people, only for technology to pull the classic “freeze frame” mid-sentence.
While I thought I was dazzling the crowd, I was actually a digital statue until a phone call 20 seconds later broke the news. Instead of spiralling into panic, I opted for the far superior plan: get help, breathe deeply and reboot just in time for those that had used it as a toilet break.
I have no doubt the glitch was a buzzkill for some, but I refocused on the audience and the message. In true Laughology spirit of being “playful curious,” I even worked the glitch into the talk – because sometimes the best punchlines are the ones you didn’t plan. Yet even though I know you can’t plan for the unexpected, we’ve added some extra safeguards to avoid this for the future.
If you’d like one of the team to bring some learning to your team, get in touch with Doug, who can talk you through what we offer – email him: doug@laughology.co.uk
We look forward to spreading more laughter, learning and happiness in 2026!
