Granny Daly's cottage was positioned right in the centre of our village. The white stonewashed walls and straw roof appeared perfect. Moreover, the backdrop of hills and large trees made it look frozen in time.

Granny Daly was a cuddly lady. She always seemed to smile. As I skipped my way from school each day the whiff of brown bread baking greeted me from inside her cottage. It warmed my heart to spot her white curly hair each day. I would see it as I turned the corner onto main street.

In the afternoons she tended her garden roses. She produced the most beautiful large, sweet-smelling roses in the village each year. (She had accumulated ten years of village garden fete trophies to prove it).

Inside her cottage was the most magical place ever. There was a warm fire and the old stainless-steel kettle always whistling on the heat. Her beautiful black and white collie, Jack, was a permanent fixture sleeping by the fire, on the mat. On the cold winter days, I remember the smell of homemade soup hitting me as I ran in from the sharp cold outside.

The entire village appeared to love Granny Daly. She was one of those people who always left you feeling happy. Never a sad tale, she was defiantly a half -full sort of person. She finished each sentence with a hearty chuckle. No matter what news she heard she would always say’ Ah sur, it could be worse’.

She told me every day to never forget how blessed and loved I am. She had the warmest and best hugs, ever.

Decades have passed since Granny Daly left this world. Her beautiful cottage was bulldozed down to make space for the new apartments. However, such memories and feelings of warmth, love and kindness will never leave. They are locked away in the heart forever.