I wasnt surprised by the manhandling of Muslim women wearing veils in France the other day. France is a strange mix of freedom and constraint - as of course is Britain. The Tablet puts it unusually strongly today and I have to say I  agree that they should, although I couldn't myself get worked up about it. I suppose that is because I dislike the veil myself, seeing it as a polemic rather than an old custom. It's something new: something somehow slightly threatening and that is why the French have wanted to ban it. The ban is so obviously provocative and could lead to really serious problems so I hope it is repealed quickly. I know though that it will never be banned in the UK and that, in turn, makes me aware of just how much I personally have changed since I was first in Iceland in the 80s. At that time I was fairly anti-British. I was looking for another homeland and I did fall seriously in love with Iceland at the time - mostly individuals of course. Now, although I am not proud to be British, I can say honestly that I don't mind being British any more. If I have to belong to any country I'd far rather it was Britain than, say, the USA or Australia . . .  or France come to think of it. . . . . or Iceland . . . .

It was my time in Reykjavik and then, later, the choir trips that I organised here that made me change my mind about Iceland, although I was aware before I left in '86 that I could never be really Icelandic. I can also say with some precision when I actually fell OUT of love with Iceland: that was during our second choir tour in 2001. Exactly why is harder to say: Iceland has changed I think, (although it could be more that I have changed).. . . .  Perhaps it is more the fact that I spent seventeen years teaching in the UK after I left Worth and  this must have moulded me more than I realise (just as the navy has moulded Neal without him realising.) Comparing my teaching time there with my teaching time here is perhaps not fair. Crosfields was a wonderful place to teach on the whole although it didnt seem so at the time - not at all typical.

Could I ever fall back in love with Iceland? or with anywhere come to think of it?

I very much doubt it. My whole view of life has changed so dramatically over the past few years. I live so much in the knowledge that nothing stays the same and that the hallo is always followed by the goodbye so I doubt that I could ever fall in love again with a person let alone a nation.

It disappoints me that I have such negative feelings about Iceland though . . . . . or is it the village itself? It's difficult to judge. It is best that I stay on though: I must really give it time. 

Going back over the past few years, I have travelled further than I can really understand: the dark places I have visited leave their mark but I must not underestimate the extent to which my prayer has changed me too . . . . although it never seems to be for the better really . . . . I am much less 'involved' than I ever used to be and this doesnt seem to be a strength - although in the long term I might be wrong to judge myself too harshly about that. . . . .