The children here are scrubbed and polished, wearing immaculate, if slightly worn, navy blue uniforms as they chase each other round and round. Some are clearly drowning in hand-me-downs. All the girls have their hair tied up in red ribbons and they look so adorable and so keen—again, something that doesn’t instantly spring to mind when thinking of pupils at home.

They come and hang on Dean’s arms and follow us inside.

The schoolhouse is as neat as a pin inside, but oh so basic. It’s made up of half a dozen rooms and the walls are bare, the paint is faded and cracked, the rows of desks rudimentary. The classes are mixed, but the girls sit on one side and the boys sit on the other. They’re also mixed in age—anything from seven year olds to the three shy women sitting at the back who are probably in their early thirties.

Their young Nepali teacher, Manuka, gladly gives up teaching her lesson to welcome Dean and me. He’s clearly very popular here and I feel a surge of affection for him. Dean introduces me first in Nepalese and then in English. ‘This is Lyssa and she’s come to visit us all the way from England.’

The children find this hilarious and abandon their desks to crowd round me. One little, doe-eyed boy coyly hands me a crumpled book.

‘Do you want to read for them?’ Dean suggests.

‘I’d love to.’ And as soon as I’ve said it, I give the book the once-over and I have to say it’s pretty dire. It’s one of their English set texts and the book doesn’t do justice to the children’s grasp of language. Nevertheless, before I’ve even uttered a word, I’m surrounded by a rapt audience of smiling faces and I think if all pupils were as attentive then teaching wouldn’t be a bad job. I do appreciate that some of their attention is due to my novelty value.

One of the smallest girls has wriggled her way onto my knee, threading her arms round my neck, as I read aloud the fairly rubbishy story about a frog looking for somewhere to live—but no one seems to care about the content. Even the older women have joined us cross-legged on the floor. Dean is sitting over in the corner, also surrounded by fans, and as I catch his eye I can see him grinning proudly.