They say if you look into a mirror long enough, you’ll see your mother’s face.

Actually I’m not sure if anyone ever really said that – and even if they did, does it just apply to women, or men too? – but anyway I’ve tried it and it does happen.

Once I saw a strange hybrid of my dad and a Cabbage Patch Doll in the mirror, but usually the face staring back is a younger version of my mum.

According to a survey, women start showing signs of turning into their mothers in their early thirties, when they stop rebelling against them and start to copy them instead.

If you’re still rebelling against your parents after turning 30 it probably says more about you than them, but I guess it’s an age when we shake off the lotus-eating carelessness of youth and try to be a grown-up.

I don’t have my mum’s creative streak, so I’m not generally surrounded by scraps of material, paper, glue, paint and glitter like she was, and I take a less chaotic approach to housework, but there are signs of her that I notice now and then.

My love of books, junk shops and general clutter comes from her, as does my contempt of people who give their children daft, made-up names, and my occasional use of the unprintable cussing I only ever heard her use.

And whenever I find myself half-heartedly listening to The Archers I feel part of my mum, who was an avid follower of Ambridge. Hearing the opening notes of Radio 4’s Just A Minute, I picture her chortling in the kitchen, usually through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“Radio 4? Radio Bore more like,” sneered my sister, when I re-tuned her kitchen radio recently, unable to stand her Mundane FM any longer.

Although she doesn’t share our mum’s devotion to Radio 4, she does have her natural talent with a sewing-machine, and she repeats the old “There are things on the bottom of the stairs, don’t walk past them on your way up” mantra to her own children.

More than 50 per cent of women surveyed named their mothers the most inspirational woman in their lives, so it’s not surprising we pick up their traits.

According to the poll, men emulate their fathers too, with tell-tale signs including pottering around DIY stores, moaning about loud music, falling asleep in the living-room and having a “man drawer” full of batteries, cables and keys to nowhere.

Since I tick all those boxes, I guess girls turn into their dads too. As I’ll be reminded, next time I’m driving to B&Q while listening to Woman’s Hour.