PG Certificate required.

I’m gonna put a minimum age limit on my Blog so anyone under 30 can’t access it.

Ive been forced to do this because my daughter, who apparently doesn’t get Irony, has told me the blog is ‘very depressing because all I do is moan’ and she just doesn’t see anything funny in it.

So, I’ve either got to change the whole style and only write about the beautiful, pretty things or I’ve got to limit access to those who get it.

It seems to be an age thing.

See I find Things that go wrong, rather amusing.

Like, the incident with the builders, the bag of rubble and the passing pedestrian.

Meandering through the streets today we stopped to watch a group of builders working. One builder, working on a wall about 3 floors up, tipped his bucket of stones over the side of the building without checking to see if anyone was below. Unfortunately all the dust and rubble fell on a young guy walking past and he just didn’t see the funny side.

I found it amusing when Jaki and I went to the Cocktail bar on the top floor of the Rennaisance Hotel and tried to order a Bloody Mary. Now I know there’s an issue with alcohol here but this Cocktail Bar ran out of Tomato juice! Come on.

As a result I ordered a Gin Fizz. Now the clue is in the name. It should have Gin, and it should be Fizzy. What I got was a glass of flat soda water and no Gin. And it cost 100dh .

I find it rather amusing that Jaki and I got lost today whilst trying to get back to the Riad. We got so lost in fact, we turned ourselves in at the Central police station and asked for their help in getting back.

Unfortunately, even with a the benefit of our tourist map and Jakis pigeon French the best they could come up with was a scratch of the head and a few shrugs of the shoulders.

They did phone the Riad for help and I understand some one was despatched on foot to bring us in but they never arrived and after about an hour sat in the nick, we hailed a Taxi and got him to drop us at the Taxi rank just outside the small pedestrian gate. From there we knew our way home.

Once back at the Riad we learnt that some one had gone looking for us but, they thought it was the French Family.

(It’s a pity it wasn’t cause the two teenagers have been a pain in the arsenal all afternoon. They’ve dominated the pool, jumping in and splashing water everywhere , throwing limes at each other and shouting so loudly the walls have vibrated. The biggest gripe is the noise. They never stop chatting, Its all at full volume and its echoing around the walls like a  bad rap record that’s stuck in a loop. They really are challenging European unity).

It all started so well. We set out on foot and found a Restaurant and bar called I’lemoni where we stopped for a beer. Then we kept going till we got to Ben Yousef, where we stumbled into a street restaurant more by accident than design and found ourselves being served, a full lunch.

Tomato salad, cooked vegetables, a mixed Grill of sausage, meatballs, lamb chop and kebabs of lamb and chicken. There was fresh bread and an egg and tomato dish with meatballs that was really good. Washed down with Coca Cola it all came to 120 dh.

We were pestered the whole time by a cat and some of the smallest kittens I’ve ever seen though the owner chased them off by squirting water at them from a bottle.

We called into a sort of Apothacary shop, where they sell herbs and homeopathic treatments. It was interesting smelling all the different potions and finding out what they were used for. There was one in particular that took my fancy it was a cure for Marrakech Music, or Snoring as we know it.

it was after this that we found ourselves wandering aimlessly around the Medina gradually getting further and further away from our destination. We did fine till we became aware of a guy following us.

He appeared to have mental health issues as he was talking to himself and behaving oddly, so we were mindful of his presence and took our eyes off the prize.

We were approached by a few young guys who offered to show us the way back but this is usually a con so we declined relying instead on our instinct. Sadly that failed us badly. We did ask directions in the Post Office and several shops but they all seemed as lost as us.

just as we got back the wind got up,it bent the trees and blew dust everywhere. Then there was a clap of thunder and it started to rain. So we sat in our doorway and watched it whilst having a drink.

Watching the rain from our room
Watching the rain from our room

Now the birds have started to roost in the lemon tree and the bamboo thicket on the Terrace. They come in at the same time every night, make an almighty din, then suddenly fall silent. There’s a surprising amount of wild life activity for such a small space. A group of Bulbul birds keep us amused hunting moths and their call sounds like. 🎼 beat you up, beat you up.

Common Bulbul
Common Bulbul

The Storks fly across in a large group at about the same time each night and I’m gonna try and get up on the roof and film them before the holiday is finished.

So, in order to satisfy my daughter, I have to ignore these events,  or I cater for those that enjoy it and leave her to find her amusement else where?

What do you think?


6 thoughts on “PG Certificate required.

  1. I think I detect an example of ageism and French racism slipping into your latest blog?
    Should you make it on the roof, make sure you are well protected against Stork deposits. It could be more dangerous than builders rubble.
    Could do with some of the Marrakech Music remedy, if you can find your way back there.
    Here’s to Tomato Juice, cheers

    1. A very accurate critique if I might say so.
      Yes I think I am in danger of becoming ageist, in fact the women I fancy are getting older.
      Racism is a far cry from moaning under my breath, but I’m on it.
      Snoring cure definitely didn’t work which is why I’m on the terrace at 0620 this morning.
      I’m gonna test the Stork Theory but I don’t want to end up pregnant.
      Looking forward to cricket today.

  2. Young people today ‘tch’
    You just carry on old boy, I am always good for a bit of irony.
    You may want to get yourself looked at as a lack of special awareness (getting lost) can also be a sign of early onset dodderism.
    I’m surprised you haven’t tried to find the local brigade station (do they have a F&R service)and get them to give you a tour, in the spirit of international fraternalism of course.
    Bottom line is you may love your kids but you don’t have to live by their rules. Now there’s an irony 😉

  3. If this blog starts to adopt the syrupy tone of Judith Chalmers, then I’m off. It’s the ‘things that don’t go quite right’ that make for interesting reading. For instance: the deranged gnat that flew up Jaki’s nostril and stopped the Marrakech Music for just one second is more entertaining than hearing about the delightfully cheap handbag she bought in the market. (Glad to see the snoring motif is still wending its way through the words). Anyways, must dash. Bob’s decided my next car’s a Porsche Boxster; best get downstairs before he forgets he even made the suggestion .. old men eh?! 🙂

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