“You’re in the world of morning joy”

IT’S 8am. I open my eyes to find a pair of perky brown irises staring into mine, a couple of inches from my own.

These eyes hold my sleepy gaze with unblinking confidence. My body scrambles into sitting position, my brain lagging some distance behind.

A child climbs onto my bed, sits facing me. I recover my bearings: I’m in a small, converted out-building on my sister’s small-holding, in the boondocks of Sligo. It’s the last morning of my visit and these round, beseeching orbs belong to Lola, my two year-old niece.