A little red bird of happiness

Early morning, summery European sunshine, and I'm awake. It's good to be reminded we have summer in Ireland, because in mid-winter it's easy to forget that sometimes I do sleep with just a sheet on here, sometimes I do wear short sleeves.

- JENNIE RIDYARD

I tiptoe into the hallway where I hear a strange fluttering: a red-breasted robin is sitting atop a picture frame, looking at me as if I'm the interloper. Irish folklore would have it that a visiting robin is a guest from beyond the grave, but conversely it also says that when a robin comes into your house it signifies the death of a loved one.

Me, I'm just glad he's visiting. "Hello," I whisper, noting the ajar window on the landing, clearly his entry point.