On my own

S has to leave early on the Sunday morning - all too soon he's jumping into a taxi, and I'm left on my own...

I spend the first hour or so up on the roof terrace of the riad - overcast, but warm. I read and doze and read and contemplate how I'm going to spend my day without the protection of a companion. Really, such a drip! I think of the indomitable woman we met last night, gird my loins, don sunnies, cover my shoulders and the magnificent bosom with an all-enveloping pashmina, and sally forth into the souks. I'm determined not to lose my way, and rather in the way of leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, I make mental notes and turn round to see what it looks like in reverse. Within a minute, I'm completely lost ...

Two hours later, I totter the long way round along a very main road, check the guide book map, find out roughly where I am, five minutes later, find I'm not where I thought, and so it went on - until again by chance, I happen upon the big pink wall among all big pink walls which I do recognise - and gratefull stagger down the alleyway, into the riad, and flop on my bed.