It’s a bright, blustery spring day; a cornflower sky blazes above me as I turn another tendril of emerald sugar kelp over in my hand, a warm wash of Baltic Sea lapping at the craggy Swedish shoreline below.
The air is laced with a pungent perfume of sea salt, my hands now cold from the wet and slime. It all feels quite meditative, spiritual, even, I realise, as I run my fingers between two moss-sheathed rocks and listen intently to Karolina Martinson—Gothenburg’s ‘queen of kelp’—enthuse about the health properties of algae.
