We are firmly of the view that a holiday isn't a holiday unless one arrives home drained of every last vestige of energy, and I am pleased to note that Iceland appeared to do exactly that, because we slept without stirring, all of us, and even when one by one our eyes began slowly to open some time later than usual the only stirring that happened was in near silence as slowly somewhere in the corner of the room a teaspoon commenced its orbit around the inside of a coffee cup.
It may have been the ever so slight change in time zones that prompted our big sleep, or it may have been the heated pool that had drained our resources the morning before, but whatever it was it left us all quite happy to spend a Sunday hanging around, and chatting about the week that was. Interrupted only by a short outing to take in some provisions, and while out to marvel at how much as anywhere in the world London feels quite a bit like "home" each time we return
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