Postcard from Marrakech
Having recently lost my livelihood and career for standing up to Woke – a story I hope to relate at some point – I needed a quick break abroad before embarking on the next stage of life – whatever on earth that might be. So I decided to go to Marrakech in Morocco. As regular readers will know, my policy is to visit at least one country a year new to me, and this would be number 42 (previous countries: the EU 27 , Switzerland, Norway, Iceland, USA, Mexico, Malaysia, UAE, Philippines, Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand, Serbia, Montenegro , Turkey). It would be my first sojourn into Africa. I’d booked four nights at what looked like the best riad in Marrakech, one on the edge of the walled old town. I arrived late on Saturday night and was driven there from the airport by a man with excellent English who I liked and gave me tips and advice, such as be careful in the old town, where youths would offer to guide you out of its mazey streets and aggressively demand money for do...