I was living in Edinburgh in Scotland, a lively cosmopolitan city.. there was sunshine and friends. Sometimes. I worked as a bookseller and occasional tutor and laboratory research assistant. But Iceland held an exotic appeal.. land of fire and ice! So I left, bought a big Landrover and filled it with all my belongings to the point of bursting and set off on my adventure. I didn't want to leave my friends and I miss you folk. It was a long required and partly desired time for something new.So Iceland: I came by ferry from Aberdeen with my big green Landrover Defender Hard Top 110 called Flo, stopping off in Shetland, and visiting my friends Ruth and Jonathan. We had an dramatic walk along the beach to St. Ninian's Isle blasted by northern winds bent double to be able to make slow progress, feet sinking into the wet sand. Returning back to their new house was a delight.. new and clean and warm, painted red, with gloriously luxurious heated floors. In the deep of night I queued up, with other Landrovers, bicycles and passengers to catch the Smyril Line ferry to the Faroes and then ultimately to Iceland.
My first house in Iceland was one from a fairytale, perfectly fitting my image of life in Iceland.. blue corrugated iron, with pretty details above the window, wood-lined interior and views from the windows of the old town patchwork of sweetly-coloured toy houses. I really loved it. And my flatmate Karen ensured the most calm and warm welcome; a fine companion. To come home to the fairy-tale house with my peaceful flatmate was the best way to start a new life.
