Cat ex Rabat (almost)

Friday morning, 6:55 a.m. ... have packed the Lady Diana Virginity Soap and requisite gifts to friends & family which somehow bear witness to the fact that I've been here for the past year (like my new grey hairs aren't proof enough). Yes, off in a bit a few weeks' holiday back in the land of respectful men and respected traffic laws ... assuming that my driver, who speaks no French and no English, hasn't gotten lost or forgotten about me altogether. Assuming that he takes me to the right terminal. Assuming that my flight isn't cancelled or delayed so that I miss my connection.

Sigh. Was travel less stressful when one crossed the ocean by ship?

Anyway, I have no idea if I'll be updating the blog from Canada. I think that I'll be more hard pressed to be amusing, topical and/or just plain snarky than I usually am. Perhaps Morocco is my muse or, more accurately, my bête noire. Or perhaps I'll be bored out of my tree by Day 4 and won't shut the hell up.

In any case, happy happy August! By the end of this day, I'll be able to have a drink out of doors and not risk censure. Oh! ~ for those of you who have no clear idea what Canada is like, click on the maple leaf below & crank up your speakers (my Canuck readers will be all too familar with Joe's paean but sometimes it's important to remember that a chesterfield is a couch). Cheers! says Cat in Rabat with that not-quite-so-elusive pint of bitter in her hand.