is where my parents-in-law live, I hasten to add). I know Denmark’s peninsula less well, largely because every time I have visited I have departed shortly afterward wondering why I ever went there in the first place. Jutland is windy and smells of manure. The people are blunt and chippy, mistrustful of Copenhageners and their fancy ways, and perhaps a little narrow-minded. The men wear denim dungarees and ride farty little motor scooters. The women, it has to be said, are staggeringly beautiful (particularly in Aalborg, for some reason), but Jutland offers little by way of cultural
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