Indiana Jones and the markets of Marrakesh

The mountain roads were very steep and meandered through the cloud line and onto the snow covered peaks they were just amazing to see. I never thought that I would ever be standing high on the backbone of Africa.
The skiing area was no different than would be found in any mountainous country, the time of the year didn’t matter as the slopes were open all year round due to the height. I had never skied before. I persevered all morning and by lunch it was apparent I was not naturally talented. Tobogganing was a much safer alternative and was just as much fun. We stayed at various resorts for a few days before we set of for Marrakesh.
It didn’t take us long to descend to the desert floor, the experience was hairy, once down, the road was straight and long we stopped for petrol, filling up two land rovers and several Jerry cans.

The petrol station was just a solitary pump in the middle of nowhere, a small boy sat under a blanket awning. He cranked a handle through 360 degrees and I think he was pulling the fuel through from Saudi Arabia; the experience of waiting in the heat of the desert has remained with me all these years. Two hours later we got on our way and a few hours after that we arrived at our destination.

The place was just like a stage set for Indiana Jones, commotion rained narrow lanes people in shabby clothing and street sellers every were, it was soon obvious that there was no road etiquette and manners were just wasted on the French speaking natives.
It wasn’t long before we had an accident when the spars of a cart punctured the side of one of the vehicles; the damage was minor however the cart vendor needed paying off.
Marrakesh was fantastic, the dessert trains had just arrived for market and the place was just hooching with fire eaters, jugglers and magicians there were people chewing glass and walking on fire.

Snake charmers were in abundance, there were stalls selling local delicacies and fruits of various international origins. I viewed a man push a six inch nail up his nose, I wouldn’t have ever believed that it was real until he removed his hat and pulled it out again. The place was mind boggling; we stayed there for two days and had a wonderful time bartering for cheep goods.
There was two aspect of the place that were not to my taste and that was the amount of drug pushers and also the number of deformed and disabled beggars. The morning we left, our departure was hampered by unseen damage to one of the land rovers a Hydraulic pipe had been split by the impact of the cart, makeshift repairs were carried out and we set off on our return to Algiers, this time by way of the coast.Our next stop was at a seaside town that time had forgot.

The chief in charge of our party decided to have his beard trimmed, it was such an unusual occurrence that the barber decided to carry out the procedure in the middle of the main street. There must have been over a hundred spectators to watch the spectacle.

Rotten Teeth and the light switch saga

Straight St, (The Gut)

The visit to Malta went well, I enjoyed playing football and also the evening entertainment, there was one regrettable incident that happened one night before we sailed, I was duty on board the ship, it was after lights out and I had just finished doing rounds of the ship. Rounds were carried out with an officer to make sure that there was nothing untoward occurring throughout the ship. The shore patrol had arrived back after there duties ashore. Unfortunately they had been drinking but had managed to elude the officer of the day. I arrived at my mess at the same time as a Leading hand that had been in charge of the shore party. He was the worse for wares and was intent on causing me grief, I was getting changed ready to turn in when he arrogantly switched the light off, I was in no way causing any disturbance to anybody else, and was unable to see in the darkness, I switched the light back on and told him I would only be a few seconds, at this point he switched the light off and told me it was a direct order. The consequences could have been really shit but I felt I was on steady ground so I switched the light back on.
At that, the leading hand launched at me; instinctively I punched out in self defence. He hit the ground and never moved for what seamed like ages.

The commotion had woken several others who soon arrived to help him to the sick bay. I was stood in my underwear shaking due to the enormity of what had just happened. I could just imagine being court-martialled.
There was blood everywhere and some was dripping off my hand, I cleaned myself up in the bathrooms but the cuts to my knuckles needed stitches so I had no option than to go to the sick bay. I arrived to find the leading hand, Fred Frebarro being taken into the ships theatre. The sick bay attendant asked me what had happened as he checked my hand, before I managed to reply, he said, “ by the state of these knuckles I bet you fell down the same ladder as him”! I was so relieved with the feeling that it was all going to be covered up. The shore patrol had returned drunk and the trouble that would have ensued would have been an embarrassment for the captain, the ship and the Navy. Fred Frebarro recovered quickly, although not as pretty as before. Someone remembered me years later when our paths crossed and reminded me I was the person who separated Fred Frebarro from his front teeth, It turned out to be his brother in law who was also onboard Glamorgan at the same time. I was only seventeen then, I am now nearly fifty and have never felt the need to hit anybody since that day.

We sailed for more exercises in the Med, returning to Gibraltar on the way home. There was a raffle held on board before we reached Gib, the prize was seven days in Marocco skiing in the Atlas mountains and visiting the city of Marakesh. There were twelve places available, Well I must have been faited or it may have been that I worked in the Fleet Chief's mess and for all my grovelling I was being rewarded. The expedition was travelling in two Nuffield trust landrovers from Algiers into the mountains to spend two days skiing, we past through customs with ease after crossing greasy palms with silver. The first night was spent in a Hotel on the slopes of the the Atlas mountains.

The evening meal was quite inedible, watery soup and a slice of unraised bread. We slept in pairs, the rooms were very large, or maybe they just seamed that way, after all I had just shared the same room space with many sailors. I shared a room with my friend Taff Savage, Taff also lost teeth in Malts but that was for ungentlemenly conduct which involved a cigarette and a prostitutes breasts, but thats another story.

The room was very basic, but it did have a toilet with a screen to hid any modesty, we turned in early as there was no bar and no electric lights in the hotel, we could have played cards by candle light I suppose. In the middle of the night I woke to do the toilet, number two's. In the dark I found the toilet and proceeded to purge myself. After I tried to find the flush , there appeared to be none and indeed no paper, I searched in vain, and had to use underpants instead. I threw them out of the window. In the morning I was awakened by Taff saying whats that fucking smell. I explained to him what had happened, it was at this point I found out what a bidet looks like.

We travelled on in the morning after a light breakfast I never did manage to flush and or retrieve my underpants, I wonder what the staff must have thought after we had gone.