Just got back from the Iceland Writers Retreat in Reykjavik. Wow! My brain’s still buzzing with the stunning scenery and from meeting so many wonderful writers during my time there.
The retreat offered the perfect mix of writing workshops, delicious food (I’m especially going to miss my breakfast skyr and snacking on chocolate-coated liquorice) and sightseeing, with an extra sprinkling of literary receptions and readings in Reykjavik and beyond.
While I’d love to share the rest of my chocolate liquorice with you (ha! Who am I kidding? It’s mine, all mine), I might have to restrict myself to sharing a few of the unforgettable sights instead…
View from Harpa
Sólfar by Jón Gunnar Árnason
A huge thank you to Writers News for such a fantastic prize!
Yesterday I waved my youngest off into the big wide world. I packed him up some mutton pies, brushed down his tattered trousers, and watched him disappear off into the Victorian London sunset to seek his fortune.
This isn’t his first time away from home. Not by a long chalk. The cheeky little feller keeps coming back, demanding rewrites. And more pies. He’s very fond of pies. But I’m trying my best not to think about him now. It’s for the best. No wondering what he’s up to. No brooding over how he might be faring out there. It’s time to throw myself into something new. And thanks to the fabulous folks at Writing Magazine there’s a new literary adventure just around the corner, in the shape of my prize trip to the Iceland Writers Retreat in Reykjavik. So it’s out with the Victorian ragamuffin garb and straight on with the Viking hat…
Yes, I know it’s got horns. It’s also a tad pinker than is strictly authentic…