Ah, home again. Takk fyrir, British public transport.

We're home from Iceland. I have many photos and stories to share, but since the bloke & I spent a lot of time Walking Along Beaches At Sunset Whilst Holding Hands (no really), let me share two anecdotes from those beautiful moments.

Him: It's cold. Let's go back.
Me: Come on! We have a whole town to explore. Where's your adventuring spirit? Think of your fellow Britons. Would Captain Scott have turned back because it was a bit nippy?
Him: Captain Scott froze to death in the world's biggest desert.
Me: OK...um...Captain Cook, then! No, hang on...*
Him: pointed stare
Me: Er, sorry, bad example. There has to be at least one British adventurer who wasn't killed by his exploits.
Him, after a lengthy pause: Well, there was Livingstone**-
Me, in blissful ignorance: There you go!
Him: - but he died of malaria.
Me: sigh

~*~

Him: hums the tune to Women of the world/Take over/Because if you don't/The world/Will come to an end***
Me: begins singing the words
Him: No, I'm singing "nanilas of the world/Take over..."
Me: You don't want that. It would be nothing but cake, kittens and attractively decaying cemeteries.

* Captain Cook: Killed by the native Hawai'ians. Oh irony, could you have prompted a better example? I think not.
** David Livingstone: Scottish explorer and anti-slavery crusader.
*** See: Ivor Cutler - Women of the World