Borek, biryani and skyr: notes from flaneuring

I’m back at my writing desk after a four week break of flaneuring and flouncing about Europe.

From the buzz and crowds of sunny summer London. Pints on the pavement, sun-bathing in the park, striking a stony Tube face, history intermingling with hipster. A city uniting against tragedy, once again.

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To the majestic peaks of Iceland. Twenty four hours of daylight without warmth. Sweet scent of freshly baked sugary cinnamon rolls. Cold toes and sunburnt noses. Blue crystalline ice-bergs and blac...