Have you ever wondered what would happen if you accidentally picked up the wrong bag from the carousel at the airport?
I hadn’t. Until now.
It’s all my own stupid fault. I was rushing home to Reykjavik, to be by my mother’s hospital bedside, although a quick glance at her smiling face where she’s propped up on a pile of pillows, seems to indicate there was no need for urgency. A wave of relief washes over me and finally, I can think clearly.
I need to get my bag back.
So, I arrange to meet Rory Campbell, the grumpy man with the deep delicious sounding Scottish accent, who has my bag.
What I never anticipated was how my little mix up would end … One amazing weekend in Iceland.
The question now is … could it be something more?
