A coincidence and some singing

Finally at about eleven pm the storytelling came to an end and we got up to be shown around the centre with its library and maps and our host said "Would you like to see my church?" I hadn't realised that he was a priest, having come in a bit late.  The journalist disappeared to the toilet for a moment and during that time we learnt our host's name was Gaer.  He asked G and I where we were from, and when we said Australia he said "Ah, I have a brother there. I baptised his son" and all of a sudden Grant and I knew who he was.  When my friend Mary J back home had heard we were going to Iceland she invited us to dinner with an Icelandic couple she knew. Villi and Aldiss had migrated to Australia decades ago and had been neighbours of hers. in the course of the evening they promised to have us over and tell us all about Iceland before we left. During that evening of wine and maps and suggestions Villi had mentioned he had a brother who was a priest. There, half a world away in the study centre as we stood together waiting for the journalist Grant asked "Was your brother's name Villi by any chance? Is his wife Aldiss?" And that was the case. We had, by pure chance become a link between the brothers who hadn't seen each other for years. We were flabbergasted (what an Icelandic sounding word that is) but he seemed unperturbed "Ah Villi was the adventurous one.  What a life he has had. He was the Viking and I was the stay at home with my books. In the old days he would have died young."
We looked around the fine high modern church with lovely coloured windows and I noticed the wooden frames for slipping the hymn numbers into and asked Gaer what kind of hymns were sung.  "Would you like me to sing one?" "Oh, yes please." and he sang a couple in a very pure tenor voice.  There were two types of hymn.  The old style had the poignancy of plainsong and the new style was more like the English verse hymns that thump on rhythmically verse after verse.  The cheekily he sang a drinking song about "your lovely lips" - that turned out to be the lips of a bottle of course.
We all finally parted and the American journalist said he had to catch a plane in the morning. "Come back and see me when you come again" said Gaer "Don't just pass by like a dog." "I won't be a dog" he promised. We can't imagine coming back to Iceland but promised to bear his good wishes to Villi and Aldiss in Sydney. "You see I've saved you from the rain" said Gaer as he opened the door and we scurried off into our van to find a campsite for the rest of the light night.