She taught me bravery.

Hi Milla.

It's Mom.

And again, a blog post that's not about you. Well, not really.

I had a cousin. A beautiful, bold, big-mouthed, brilliant cousin. Her name was Nicci. She was everything that, in my early, mid and late teens, I badly wanted to be.

She took no bullshit. Spoke her mind. Was completely unapologetic about not liking certain people. Was generous and kind-hearted towards people she didn't know, and divine to people she liked.

She had style. Had confidence. Had loyal followers, friends and even foes. She carried her own herbal teabags, in case the restaurant in question didn't have what she wanted. Had a little metal box with her sweetener in it. (And we were students, fergodsakes. Who thinks about tea and sweetener?) Was an absolute man-magnet. Loved smoking. And parties.

Here are some other things I really loved about Nicci:

• The dimple that was high up in her cheek (I have one too).
• Her thumbs (weird, exactly like my father's and her mother's).
• The way she walked. Okay, strode.
• Her watches. They were glorious.
• Her laugh: a loud, naughty cackle.
• The fact that she always, always smelled like Mugler's 'Angel'.
• How unashamedly smart she was.

What I want you to know is that I was going to name you Cole. After her (Nicole) and my late Dad (Colin). I didn't, but that doesn't minimise the effect she had on my adult life.

I think about her every day. (Which is strange, if we're being completely honest here, because I was nowehere near as close to her as some people were - and as I am to my very closest friends... But I would have loved to be.) She altered my personality.

After we lost her in 2001, just before her 21st, I began to notice my dimple. I started to laugh more. And I developed the sort of confidence that colleagues remark on. I'm proud to be bold and big-mouthed. I take little bullshit. I speak my friggin' mind. A lot. Loudly.

I didn't do any of this on purpose. It just happened. Somewhere between 2002 and 2005, I transformed from a bit of a wallflower, with a healthy dose of insecurity and public shyness, into an extrovert who likes chatting to strangers, says irreverent things, dives in.

I am brave. Nicci taught me bravery. May you be brave.

I love you.

Mom x