ATLAS ASSES

My dear ladies and occasional gentleman back to Morrocco with ATLAS ASSES.

A short walk before lunch,  suggested our host in the ATLAS MOUNTAINS, just down to the village and a little stroll in the splendor of the snow-topped mountains.

Several of us set off down the steep hill and met this handsome chap as we entered the village.

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The local ladies sat in the shade tried to control their chuckles at the STUPID TOURISTS walking past, out in the mid-day sun.

After 30 minutes of navigating, GULLIES, traversing STREAMS climbing over BOULDERS our friendly guide told us that the way ahead was blocked with a river of water. The farmers are allowed to irrigate their land with the snow melted water according to a time-table! Either the FARMER or the GUIDE had erred!

Back we climbed the way we had climbed down and attempted another route. 20 minutes later this to was blocked by water. A mixed group of MIDDLE-AGED  people clinging to the side of the mountain set the dear boy guide panicking a little and he quickly suggested we climb up a steep bank, and through some barbed wire in order to avoid it.

My dear friend Veronica under the illusion she is like a YOUNG GAZELLE scrambled up behind a fellow climber and there was a pivotal moment when half of her was through the hole but the rest of her (dare ASS ay  the heavier end) wasn’t!

With temperatures of 29c I decided to join the men and brave the water, oh what fun we had!

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After a further 20 minutes and another blocked track, I decided I’d had enough and would make my own way back.

When Veronica arrived sometime after me, she resembled an EXTREMELY CROSS GIANT TOMATO!

XXXXXXX! XXXXXXXXXXX! XX! XXXXXXX! XXXXX!

I’m afraid I’ve had to censor what she said.

Yours Tiredly

Celia

MOROCCAN GIN

My dear ladies and occasional gentleman we were bouncing along in our mini bus when we skidded to a halt on the edge of a precipice for this photo op of a Berber village.

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We had been advised to wear plenty of clothes as it would be cold in the mountains. We didn’t have a lot of clothes  so I wore my stylish GREY JERSEY JACKET and my dear friend Veronica borrowed a rather un-fetching FLEECE.  The only acceptable time to wear a FLEECE is if you are doing a sponsored NIGHT-WALK for CHARITY! Luckily it was 84f and Veronica didn’t have to embarrass herself!

Driving around hare pin bends climbing steeply, we thought it was a MISSION IMPOSSIBLE which funnily enough they filmed there but eventually we arrived at RIAD DAR TASSA just in time for……

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MOROCCAN GIN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or as we know it MINT TEA.

Of course Veronica was snitchy because the young man served me first.

Yours Mintily

Celia

p.s. Where is all this FLEECE coming from, it’s everywhere, cushions, blankets, dog beds, jackets, scarfs, hats, gloves, dusters, slippers. Ronald has even got some trousers in FLEECE.

FLEECE that’s a misnomer as the stuff hasn’t been within a mile of a sheep!

PENCHANT FOR PORN

PENCHANT FOR PORN yes my dear ladies and occasional gentleman it is appears that I am gifted.

As some of you know I dabble with a little bit of writing.

imageAs you can see I still favour a QUILL.

My dear son suggested I write one as there seems to be such a demand. So I considered it and thought I’d have a go, in a ladylike way of course.

I sat in the LADYGARDEN with a NOTEBOOK, wrote 3,500 WORDS, had SEX three times and all before LUNCH!

I do believe I have a PENCHANT FOR PORN.

Yours Excitedly

Celia