The mother of the ‘Maitresse d’Hotel’ woke me up with the noise of hacking cough; the noise of her using the loo and farting while on it. She is a Berber woman (tattoos on her face) and suffers from laryngitis. Then the children were up making a noise. It was 7.15am.
I lay in bed for a while before getting up for some breakfast in the room. While eating a bowl of cereal, I spilt half a bag of milk on the floor. I streamed out of our room under the door and into the hall outside. There was a knock on our door. When I opened the door, it was the maitresse. I had a cloth in one hand and apologised immediately for the spillage. But, she did not seem concerned and got one her cleaning girls to mop it up.
Dan was sitting on the edge of his bed eating and egg butty. He moved so he could fart, but he let out more than just a fart. He was still not feeling well and spent the next hour washing his clothes.
Before lunch, we went back into the Djmaa El Fna and sat on the terrace of a café [which I am certain was the one that was bombed this year] to watch the chaos below and to look at the mountains to the south. I read my book for a while Dan wrote up his diary. After a good spell sitting in the warm sunshine and getting fed up with watching the droves of coach delivered, Spanish tourists arriving who were being herded into square. We left to buy lunch and to get back to the peace of our room.
There, we ate and listened to the BBC World Service where Dave Lee Travis was the DJ. The World Service has become an important part of our travelling lives. It keeps us informed, entertained and amused for hours. We listened through a small but excellent short wave radio made by Sony.
In the afternoon, Dan and I had a confrontation over a small misunderstanding about money. I told Dan to stop patronising me and he’d been doing so for two months. Dan asked why I had not said so before.
We left, after simmering down, to buy olive oil, cereal and beans (which I left in the shop) plus a small lump of meat. We made up a stew of the beef, potatoes, carrots, onions, some sort of white radish/parsnip shaped thing, bouquet garni, spice and some soup for stock. It turned out well on the pots on our paraffin cooker. For pudding, we ate a delicious local melon before hitting the sack.
Will Hawkins lives in Lincolnshire with his family, works in a technology company in London and does as many micro-adventures as he can.
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