Thursday, 28 June 2007

I'm just thinking..

“Ow ow ow.”

“What?” Q says with a rise in tone.

“The cat is climbing my back like you scale a mountain, only one made of cheese,” I screech.

“Made of cheese?” The eyebrow lifts.

“Yes, as in he is sinking in his claws!”

“Harrumph.” As she turns back to her computer screen. So much for parental affection returned. Elder abuse!

All the taxis in Morocco have a cover over the dash of the car to protect the leather from the relentless sun; they range from plain to very fancy indeed.

The constant ever-present migrating crop of the developing world is plastic carry bags. You see them as they line the fields outside the Fez Marjane like a carefully planted crop, and in Rabat along the streets of the Medina and the market.

The best French fries in the entire world are made in Morocco- period, end of discussion.

Coming into the Blue Gate into the Fez medina one is always inundated with offers of a guide. My standard line that evolved was, ”No. I don’t need a guide I live here.” Which was for the most part effective. On this day the chap pulls right up, cocks his fez over one eye, spreads his hands in the universal symbol of “I have no weapons.” and says, “But Madame, I am NOT as guide, I am a HUSTLER.” It was priceless and left us in giggles.

It’s funny how people pick up habits. I never, never bite my nails because my governess, Mrs. Davidson for whose approval I was always striving, said, “People of character do not bite their nails. It shows a lack of control and a tendency to become slovenly.” Of course she also said, and quite rightly, “Cursing of any sort is a form of laziness or an ignorance of the English language which contains quite enough words to give anyone a verbal thrashing of the most severe sort.” Yes, so the second one did not take…
Sally told me when she was young she saw several Grace Kelly movies and was so taken with her beauty, grace, and charm that she tried to emulate her. Specifically “She folded her handkerchief just so when she needed it. I then decided I would never blow my nose again, just dab.” Isn’t that sweet?

One of the trials of shopping in Morocco is that you can find something you like once, or in only one size and perhaps never again; from candles to shoes.

There is a school of thought that writing, the forming and practicing of spiritual beliefs, and masturbation should all be practiced alone, and you should wash up after.

Q to M.C.: “Your balls better get bigger or she’s not going to be able to cut them off.” Speaking of course of the upcoming appointment with the vet. Now I am no lobbyist or public relations persons, but I am a manipulative person (now, now you who think it is a bad word, I never talk anyone into anything they either didn’t really want to do in the first place or that they shouldn’t do) but I am fairly certain that is not a winning argument for being neutered. I’m just sayin’…
It rather strikes me like the unbelievable, “If you don’t stop crying I’m going to give you something to cry about.” Now, stick with me here, if the child is crying does he not ALREADY have something to cry about? Hmmm?

Wouldn’t having multiple personality disorder (MPD) be a good thing in some ways? Someone to share the blame, the guilt, the work, the popcorn… Would you qualify for the double rate on those package tours?

I don’t know, but I think it might be a bad thing when you come to know your pharmacist so well he invites you home for dinner with his family. What do you think?

Just as chocolate is the cure for all ills in Australia, apparently the cure for all ill in Morocco is the sea, or olives, or both. My pharmacist and my housekeeper, and the landlord have suggested a visit to the sea (out the door and around the corner) as a cure for my migraines. I will try anything once..

We get our fresh squeezed orange juice every day from the nice man who has a hanut on the corner of the next street over. He is obsessed with American Rock n’ Roll music. When we go to his stand, or just pass by on the way to the Fort’s gate it is surreal. You hear anything from Guns and Roses to The Allmen Brothers, or Elvis!

We now have our very own police station in the Oudayas, twenty-four hour coverage. Not that there is much for them to do I think, still it’s good for the tourists. From what I have observed Moroccan policemen don’t eat donuts, they eat the small cake pastries.

There is a too die for lingerie shop in Agdal called “Vie en Rose”. The merchandise is luscious, silk and lace galore. All the best French brands. Q has her eye on a white silk nightgown for the honeymoon.

I have to go to Club Moving now and work out. Ug and yea. I am going to have an hour’s foot massage after, so really no sympathy huh?


Lainey-Paney said...

Life sounds grand there.

And friendly.

jenny said...

Have you been talking to my dad?? That was something he said often, "If you don't stop crying..." Another thing he used to say when mom complained about her headache, he would tell me to fetch the hammer. When mom would say, "What for?" He'd say to hammer her toe and make her forget about her headache. He really isnt as bad as it sounds.. he would never really do that. His humor was just a little dark sometimes as was the rest of his 10 brothers and sisters.

I love your observations...

The Good Woman said...

And my Dad had the line about their being enough words in the English language to provide verbal abuse without resorting to swearing! I still blush when I let out a rip-roarer. Interestingly, his mother had the vocabulary of a sailor...

Stay at home dad said...

I tend to bite my nails because when I was 13 the rugby captain did... you're right, amazing how these things stay with you.

lady macleod said...


Ah yes (she said after her half hour reflexology session) it is good.

and they are friendly and so very multilingual the taxi driver and I went through the list of ten languages between us, and found a language we could both speak.

thank you for coming by.


Yes your Dad called, charming man,I meant to give him writer''s notation for that one. frak. The h/a one touches a little too close to home... In a family that large he was just trying to stay alive I imagine. I had a friend whose father was in the French Resistance, the family rule was if it is not spurting blood or a bone is visible, it can wait.
thank you, and thank you for coming by.

good woman

I think there must have been a meeting eh? Swearing when done well is very effective I think, but like your temper one must choose the time and place and do it infrequently lest it lose the advantage of surprise.

thank you for coming by.

stay at home dad

I know! And I can remember just a line here and there that someone said that had a tremendous impact on me, which is why I tried to be so very careful when Q was wee not to leave any ringers in her memory loop.
thank you for coming by.

Brillig said...

Loved this, as usual. I so enjoy reading your experiences and observations about life there.

Oh, and no. No sympathy here. Sorry.

lady macleod said...

oh brillig

it is even worse my dear. when working out on the stairmaster, sweating away, and keeping it moving with my iPod the handsome and totally muscled young man I had been watching from under my lases came over and mounted the stairmaster next to mine. All that testosterone made me giddy, and then! I recognized he was wearing Creed Green Irish Tweed! What do they do import that stuff by the bottle? My knees were getting weak, thankfully I was at the end of the workout. whew

The massage was painful and wonderful, a little kinky eh?

thank you for coming by.

mutterings and meanderings said...

A wonderful hotch-potch slice of life today!

I disagree with your governess on cursing too - I have elevated the stringing together of a variety of swear-words into an art form. I am of Olympic standard ...

lady macleod said...


a woman after my own heart. It IS an art form isn't it? One cannot simply string words together. It has to have punch, with, and timing! Olympic status! well done there.

thank you for coming by.

debio said...

Now, lady m, my husband has just finished a bottle of Creed etc.....It reminds me of foggy moorland, wet labradors and teeming boot rooms. Why would my perfect man want to smell like that in this climate? I'm so pleased the bottle is empty and am cunningly steering him towards the Italianate range.

Lovely range of cameos btw.

Mama Zen said...

Ah, Lady Macleod, I now understand why I am a sexually frustrated heathen with no book deal! Gotta get some time alone!

May I steal that quote? I'd love it for a sampler I'm working on . . .

Kaycie said...

My father swears so naturally it's almost as if he invented the words. According to my mother, I learned my very first, not-so-nice word from him. She has never let him forget it. Everytime I swear in her presence, she says, "See what you've done to your daughter!"

lady macleod said...


Has he tried the Green Irish Tweed? But you know scent smells different on everyone doesn't it, and I am sure he wants to smell good for YOU. Has he tried Fragonard, the Santal smells of sandalwood?

I am very much a 'scent' person, I love a man who smells divine. Let me know how the Italianate works out.

thanks for coming by.

mama zen

Sure..but which quote? The "balls" one? Knock yourself out! I would love to see that on a sampler!

thank you for coming by.

Poor Dad. I learned from the U.S. Navy Seals! I am with M&M on this, it is an art form, sounds like your Dad could make the Olympic team with M&M.

thank you for coming by.

Anonymous said...

I hate bloody cats when they do that. It makes me want to chew their fucking claws off!

A good cure for migraines is sex - and if his Lordship won't oblige...well...

jmb said...

Stream of consciousness today. I like it. It must be very interesting inside that head of yours. All those words trying to get out.
Sorry about the migraines, too awful. Do you take Imitrex?

Omega Mum said...

I was right there, rooting for Mrs D until that stuff about swearing. If it's good enough for Chaucer, it's good enough for me. Paucity of language, indeed.......Nice miscellany post. Have had mountain of cheese business myself but up legs. Check claw marks for infection. The little buggers (uh oh, paucity alert!) ooze bacteria.

lady macleod said...


You know I think I've heard something about that...and thank you for the kind implied offer (blush, blush). It would after all be in the cause of medical research, right? All right that's as far as I can go, I'm British you know.
thank you for coming by.


Yes I have tried the imitrex and every other bloody drug by every water off the duck's back, pissing into the wind...any metaphor you care to use. Ah well it could be worse yes? I'm as healthy as can be when not laid flat, and it is not so very often. It could certainly be worse.

thank you for coming by, always lovely to see you.

KarenO said...

Aaaaah wonderful as always -Smiling since I just had my Maghreb-fix for the day! This addiction sure works for me ;) Thanks again Lady M!

lady macleod said...


aw...that is sweet, thank you and as always, thank you for coming by.

Anonymous said...

By some coincidence I am free this weekend and Ryanair have a £9.00 special return on.. can you pick me up from the airport - I shall wear a red rose in my teeth...

lady macleod said...


I love the rose! I ...uh, I have to go to the gym now, I shall think it over shall I? but I AM smiling..

Winchester whisperer said...

Do they have rose scented oil to massage your feet?

lady macleod said...


Yes! and musk as well.

thank you for coming by.

Anonymous said...

I shall never be able to catch up on all your posts so I am just sampling them ad hoc. I like your style and your lifestyle - wow! From my small corner of the world, it's enviable. Mind you, as I stand by my husband's side through his cancer treatment, any other lifestyle seems better. But I am where I am because that is where I should be. You too.

Keep on's the only way we know what we think.