Like Wales only less colourful

"Lloyd" is a Welsh word - it's usually translated in English as "grey" but it turns out it has a much richer heritage than that - what it really means is any dirty kind of monochrome, not just somewhere between black and white. This is my birthright then.

I went down to my first breakfast at the hotel. Because I'm a well-behaved and respectful guest and don't like to accidentally break any unspoken rules, I tried to ask one of the Icelandic waitresses whether there was anything I needed to know about how breakfast worked, seeing as I hadn't had it here before. She looked at me oddly and went to get her colleague. I repeated my question and received a similar blank stare. "You ask reception." she said. Realising I had been triaged at breakfast which probably meant I was being a dick, there really wasn't anything to do but get a coffee and some food, sit down and eat it. I chose a table and then collected my vittels to break my fast.

There were many quiet Europeans at breakfast. And a noisy table of Americans. Three retired women were going over their respective experiences of working in HR - how important it was not to start people too high on the pay scale, but also not too low. One lady in particular had many stories of when she'd worked with one company and her fellow employees did terrible things.

It was still dark outside although it was coming up to nine o'clock. I checked online and found that the sun wasn't even going to rise till 9.30 so it would still be dark for a while. This is life twenty degrees west and about twelve degrees north of where I normally wake up but still in the same time zone. I went back to the room to tell Laura about this time weirdness but she was still asleep.

So I sat and watched the light increase, it was too cloudy and wet to be able to really discern a moment of dawn, but the sky slowly took on a lighter shade of lloyd. The supermarket that Erla had recommended didn't open until 11am so I went out for a little walk at 10.30 down to the ocean and back before stocking up on salad, fruit, ground coffee and cold meats. The cold meats (and fish and uncooked meats) were in an actual cold room, separate from the rest of the shop. There was also a separate fruit and veg room. I love these little cultural retail differences.

Laden with groceries and with a strong, wet wind blowing I made my way back to my wife, who, of course, was now completely ready to go out. I put away the groceries and grabbed a towel.