If I had, they would have read something like: Granite quarries, fishing boats, little shops, churches, beaches, artists, couples. Coffee shops, water views. Roundabouts, one way-streets, looming futuristic windmills. An unspoken tension between residents and visitors, expressed, as it always is, in odd parking restrictions. Ice cream, fudge and the smell of fish frying. Red and blue and weathered grey.
I did, however, take pictures.