We spent the day exploring riverside hides and watching the birds feed. We played “What am I talking about?” and got back indoors before the rain got going.
We sat on a patch of earth, the only nettle-free patch we could find within this scrap of woodland, and we listened. We had fallen in love with the knot of patchy trees as soon as we had climbed over the stile, and so here we sat.
I don’t think the Faroese understand that they attract tourists; I don’t think they see themselves as worthy. They are wrong.