VERONICA’S TASSELS

My dear ladies and occasional gentleman, I have heard it is quite common to have FLASHBACKS after a TRAUMA. And although it has been quite some time since I was in the wonderful city of MARRAKECH in MOROCCO along with the joyful memories are a few traumatic ones. (I am sure you will all remember the rock that attacked my toe in the ATLAS MOUNTAINS which has now dropped off) My dear friend Veronica and I shared a beautiful en-suite bedroom in the RIAD ANYSSATES and one morning as usual I was up first, showered and dressed before Veronica even stirred. image If it wasn’t TRAUMATICALLY FUNNY enough to witness the WILD-HEADED Veronica emerge from the CONVOLUTED, TORTUOUS heap in the bed every morning, imagine my HYSTERICS when putting my make-up on using the large wall mirror a VISION of Veronica appeared in her BRA and with a large BLUE TASSEL SWINGING JAUNTILY from her KNICKER-LEG!

Yours Tassely

Celia

p.s. I apologise on Veronicas behalf Nicholas as on her return to the UK and unpacking her suitcase a TASSEL emerged that may well belong to your amazing Riad. I am very concerned Veronica may have acquired a FETISH and TASSELS are not a good look on a middle-aged woman out FORAGING.

PLAYING DOCTORS & NURSES!

My dear ladies and occasional gentleman back to MOROCCO, after we had recovered from our trek in the ATLAS MOUNTAINS we had a delicious CHICKEN TAGINE lunch on the terrace.

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This was followed by a demonstration of BREAD BAKING, BERBER style. The flat piece of dough is pressed against the sides of the hot CLAY OVEN  to bake. The lovely lady without aid of  oven-gloves or tongs turned the bread over to bake the other side; finished it is like a NAAN BREAD.

WARNING!!!!!!!

LOOK AWAY NOW IF SQUEAMISH

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This is the unfortunate big toe that had a head-on collision with an unidentified ROCK on my ATLAS MOUNTAIN trek. Although protected by my SAINSBURYS trainers it still turned black and now the nail is half-way off.
I remarked to Ronald that I hoped I didn’t catch it and rip it off and he disappeared. Only to return with THIS|
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his FIRST-AID KIT from his BMW and mutter about making a protective BANDAGE SNOOD.

I don’t mind PLAYING DOCTORS AND NURSES but I’m NOT letting him near my TOE!

Yours Podiatryly

Celia

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!