The drive back to the coast last night was stunning. The countryside really opened up, I got out of the way of the cities and just enjoyed the wonderful views and vistas across and out to sea or up into the Rif mountains.

I was on the brink of changing my mind again when I pulled over in the middle of no-where for a quick brew. No one seen for 50 miles or so and just fields in front of me, a moment of silence and a cup of tea to sooth the worries of the night before.

No sooner had I sat down than I was joined by a Sheppard boy, complete with goats! Wonderful, I’m starting to experience the real Morocco, perhaps I’m past  the worst of it and it’ll carry on like this. However, on getting out my camera to take a photo the small lads starts shouting at me holding his hand out, not wanting to cause offence (the budget is tight) I put the camera away and instead offered the lad some of me tea - he takes it, sniffs it and hands it back with that look only 9 year olds can muster. I chuckle and my spirits soar - this is it!

Then he had to ruin it, no sooner had the tea touched my lips his little hands thrust into his pocket and pull out some cannabis resign - okay be calm - he offers it to me with the words ‘50 euro, 50 euro’. There we are then, everything confirmed there really is no ‘real’ Morocco, just empty spaces filled by drug pushing Sheppard boys.