Last night I was in [tag]Brick Lane[/tag] in East London, after spending the day in a studio that was so cold, I prayed the last client would be a no show. She duly obliged and my assistant and I packed up and headed down to [tag]Exit Bar[/tag] to have a bite to eat and warm up a lot. Little did we know as we hurriedly walked to the train station – after a lovely Lamb Burger, two plates of chips and some hot bevvys – that the cold air which caused my lungs to feel under assault, and my teeth…

Where did day three go? Our fourth day in Morocco saw us venture to the coastal town of Essaouira. From Marrakech it had been a three and half hour drive along relatively quiet roads through the desert, passing through 3-4 large towns on the way. This did include stops at an Argan Community Co-op, and strangley by a man who had positioned his goats in a tree and who then flagged down passing tour groups so that we could photograph the ‘spectacle’.

This was so very funny a day for completely banal reasons. Our second day began once we had eaten our petite dejeuner. We sauntered out to Mohammed V Avenue in search of the Marrakech Tour bus, but was approached by a taxi driver who offered to tour us for 200 dirhams (again is this the standard rate?). Given the 10 minute trip[tag]Marrakech[/tag], I really didn’t. Where you someone who watch the series Quantum Leap? O boy…

Blery eyed, my Nokia alarm woke me at around 4am so that I could roll off my suitcases and finish zipping the last of what I need to take with me into the case. I couldn’t really think, my hair was a mess, I didn’t get a chance to wash it so I tied it under a bandana shoved my hat on it and thanked the Lord above that I had decided to bathe before going to sleep. I hate packing. I hate early morning short haul flights even more.