On my way home from the boat last night, I stopped over at arch-conspirator chap (with whom I buy Burgundy) for a cup of tea and a jaffa cake.
'You're looking a bit down in the dumps old boy' he said.
'Indeed - have been better.' I replied
'Well let me venture a suggestion that should warm your mood - I have some holiday owed and if you do as well - it could be time for a bit of a chap adventure.'
'Oh aye, sir?' somewhat interested am I by now - 'are you thinking of perhaps Bordeaux? For I feel it could be our Arnhem - a region too far - I can scarcely afford my Burgundy habit.'
'Oh no, I was thinking more....Morocco - Marrakech and the like...'
There was a short pause.
'Listen old chap, I know I have a dose of the blues, but dragging me in to some sordid boudoir in the back streets of Marrakesh and attempting to turn me with low-rent Moroccan cock is hardly going to cheer me up. Nature, it is said, provides for all tastes - but that old chap is not one of mine.'
'Actually I was thinking about eating loads of Tajine and indulging in industrial grade fez wearing.'
'So we are to go to North Africa simply to eat and indulge in permitted indoor millinery experimentation?'
'Sounds brilliant. I will let you know in the fullness of time.'