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From the mouths of babes

Hey, so, last week I get this email, right? And it’s from this guy named Andrew with this email address that starts with ‘wellhungover’ and then the @ and I’ll saynomore. And he works for, like, this big London newspaper, and I won’t name any names? But it’s a broadsheet and it starts with an ‘I’ and it’s got this magazine on Sundays called the ‘I’ on Sunday. And he’s all, like, “Hi Alda, my name’s Andrew, and guess what? I’m coming to Iceland next week to do a feature on the cultural impact of the island on music and movies and I’d really like to interview you because I found you via your blog and I like your interests and I would greatly appreciate if you would liket o [sic] be interviewed for my feature on the young people of Iceland. I am also arranging some meeting [sic] with actors/actresses, musicians, models, chefs, you name it.” [blahblahblah] “Look forward to hearing from you soon, Andrew. PS Feel free to google me to see my usual celebrity interviewees.”

So I write him back and I’m all, like, “Hi Andrew, you know, I’d be really happy to meet up but, you know, the cultural impact of the island on music and movies … like, raise the eyebrow… And anyway, Andrew? I’m not even that young. I’m, like, 44. But hey, if you think I have something to contribute, I mean, just say the word.”

The part I left out? “Andrew? I might just be old enough to be your mother.”

I think Andrew probably figured that out all by himself, though, because – guess what? I never heard from him again.

Because it has been raining here, incessantly, since you arrived. It’s been windy too, so I hope you packed your windproofs. Oh, and good luck with those models an’all. You know, those Icelandic girls are totally easy … alls you gotta do is look at them sideways and just a minute later? They’re all over you. Just ask Oprah Winfrey. It’s drizzling out there right now and 10°C, which means it’s 50°F. And tomorrow the sun will come up at 5:15 am and set at 9:37 pm.