Jolly Good

Visiting my grandparents on our way to Iceland was lovely. My grandfather is much better than I expected him to be after two strokes. He was mixing up his nouns, sure, but whenever he really struggled to get something out my grandmother soon shut him up with a dismissive wave of her hand.

But we were able to chat and laugh and drink extremely large whiskeys together, and I even caught Bjarni using the phrase "jolly good" — which he'd obviously picked up from them, as that's what they always come out with when they can't think of what else to say.

I showed them my film, of course. I think they liked it, although I did see that confused flicker in their eyes, y'know, that flicker that says, "how the hell does a three-minute film about a bit of graffiti take three months and 34 people to make?" but overall I think they were very proud.

"Jolly good," they said.