D-Dog’s Blog

I could write a detailed and damning apraisal of pascoe’s faliures as an individual; I will instead leave that to speak for itself, more than apt as it is for the job.

After an awfull train journey, marred by lack of sleep, sticky seats, being woken up by guards telling me to watch bags,food piosoning and worst of all, pascoe, Marrakech seems like a surreal and dreamy heaven. My body has yet to adjust from the wretcing pains that have bedevilled it since the arrival of Pascoe, my confused and consequently paraniod mind has sought a link between the two, but I am sure that in future my apreciation of this place will mature and improve. From what I have witnessed so far this place seems to be like a giant market, selling everything you would ever want to find and much that you would not, several times over. It has vendors ranging from clean, shiny, glass fronted shops, decked out with all the fittings of a western shop, and others consisting of dribling beggars with a few wares spread across a cloth, one of whom I am sure was selling Duncan’s phone. The place is also set against snowcapped mountains, which in the heatwave and distance apear to be level with ourselves. The prominence of hustlers, dealers and con-men also seemes to have noticably reduced since we left the north, very odd considering the prominence of tourists. All this could make Marrakesh our best visit yet, Pascoe and Duncan, thick as thieves, certainly seem to be loving it.

Expect much more from this town, and Jimmy, keep up the bad work.