Matt Whistler loses Kevin in the El-Fna Square

My robot friend Kevin was last seen in a monkey’s hand in the Djemaa El Fna square, which was like a 24/7 Glastonbury Festival launch party and I had now re-located to the beautiful Riad Cinnamon situated in the heart of the Medina. The Derbs (the streets) were navigated on landmarks: left at the laughing cow, right at the mosque, left at the bird cage, right at the tanning museum, right at the crazy boy’s graffiti and permanent wheelie bin. Marrakesh was now starting to feel familiar.

I was lounging and eating a delicious tagine, freshly prepared by the friendly and helpful staff in the Riad, when there was a tap at the door. It was a policeman returning Kevin who was well vexed about the monkey trauma.
Kevin expressed his level of upset by jumping off the balcony into the plunge pool to give me a scare. The maid was freaked and I jumped in to save him with a towel the size of a handkerchief and a screwdriver to readjust his teleporting boards.
To take stock of the situation I stood on the roof terrace wall to survey Morocco and realised my time here was up and the seaside was calling; three hours on the bus to Essaouira where Jimmy Hendrix and Bob Dylan hung out in the ’60s. Thoughts of the previous day’s handstand made me chuckle…
To be continued.