Skyr

After we have booked our whale watching trip,

we spend the afternoon at Yoko Ono’s

‘Imagine Peace’ in the Hafnarhús

gallery, where we put peace stickers

on maps of the world and our grand daughter

writes on her label to hang on the peace tree

‘I wish I could have lovelyness for ever

and ever and ever and ever’ – then she

and I play the war game chess. Later

we have fish and chips – battered in spelt

and oven roasted respectively –

with Skyr dips, then visit the Volcano House

next door with its array of lava

jewellery and volcanic ash soap.

I watch her wondering, processing.

When we leave it is raining heavily.

We make our way up Bankastræti,

where the public loos have been transformed

into The Icelandic Punk Museum.

The motliest of queues waits in the rain

for Johnny Rotten to cut the tape.

We stop for a wee in Dunkin Donuts

on Laugavegur, then she and I

shelter under an awning waiting

for her parents and grandma window shopping

despite the downpour. We hold wet hands –

an old man and a child.