I realise that with the multitude of simple apps available today a written blog or journal must seem a waste of effort and largely pointless. My reason for writing, more than anything is to collect my thoughts and rant in a more precise fashion. I realise also that in reality no-one will read this so I probably will not share. If you are reading this, how? Please let me know.
Waking this morning after a fitful night was relaxing, no agendas, no pressures, no idea where's he stairs and taking a I am. The call to prayer came at three fifteen, an hour early for Ramadan, drowning out the insect chorus and waking all, for a time. Falling back asleep saw me waking at seven and rising to find an empty secured building. Sitting on the stairs and taking a moment to reflect I realised what a difficult time the past six years have been for Emma and the kids in particular a and how I haven't really been a positive, helpful frame of mind for quite some time. This was clearly illustrated with my irritation,ire and downright anger during the flight yesterday.
Agadir is the new Benidorm, or has aspirations to become such. That was and is my prediction/theory anyway. The Ryanair flight from Stansted to Agadir certainly reinforced the notion. The couple of screeching, cackling middle-aged witches from east London sitting behind Will and I were almost perfectly stereotypical to prove my theory outright on the clientele the resort now attracts. They were drunk to begin with, had no idea where they were travelling to, topped up constantly with Prosecco (which is the drink of choice for those who generally knows fuck all about wine). The constancy recitation of their innocuous repot lire of songs from Grease was highly reminiscent of old drunken Scotsmen who habitually plagued my train trips to Carlisle from Plymouth. Matters were made worse when a one of these harridans staggered across her friend on her way to the toilet and elbowing me solidly on the crown of my bonce. I was not so pissed of at the assault more that she woke me from blissful ignorant slumber to which I could not return, bastard!
I'll skip the other highlights of the flight as it will just make me sound like a grumpy, intolerant middle-aged, arrogant snob, which I am. One more, after a couple of hours a number of passengers not least of which my friends the witches, started complaining about how long the journey was taking. FFS! The captain of course rethought his strategy and landed nearly two hours early, arseholes!
I'll close the Ryanair account with another display of rage borne from arrogance; upon landing the cabin erupted into cheers and clapping, what! Not only was it evident that most had not strayed too far beyond their local cost uttersg let alone flown abroad but that the fact the magic metal bird had not eaten them was a miracle.
Enough of that, obviously both Will and I are looking forward tremendously to the return flight. We finally arrived at the hostel following a non description taxi ride from 'Agadir' airport to Tamraght surf hostel, checked in then explored the dusty alleyways of Tamraght to find a small,quiet restaurant, Mona, where Will tried the poulet brochettes and I the viande tagine, pretty good. And so to bed and rewind back to the beginning.
Off to Agadir today, will update later.
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