There was a bit of an altercation on the promenade right outside out hotel yesterday afternoon. A huge dog, Commando thinks it was a bull mastiff, attacked a small dog. Everyone around the pool was alerted by barking and yelping and stood up to see what was going on. The big dog actually had the little dog in its jaws and was shaking it. The owner was trying to get it to stop but not very successfully. Eventually, after what seemed like an age but can’t actually have been that long because Commando had started to walk out onto the promenade to help but hadn’t actually got there, a huge shaven headed tourist threw a bottle of coke over it and someone else hit it on the head and it dropped the little dog. I’m not sure who the little dog belonged to or what happened to it but the owner of the big dog wandered off as if nothing had happened. Funny, as we were just commenting earlier that, although there are cats everywhere here, you rarely see a dog. Probably a good thing.
As neither of us were hungry last night so we decided to try to find somewhere that served snacks, rather that proper meals. You’d think that would be easy but it wasn’t. We walked along Avenue 20th Aout looking at all the menus and eventually came to the conclusion that the only place was the English Bar, somewhere we have always avoided like the plague in the past (not only here but in every country we’ve been to as they all seem to have one). It was actually not as bad as expected. For a start we seemed to be the only English people in there. The place was crawling with French, Germans and I think the odd Moroccan which was quite a shock, I really expected loads of loud, beer drinking English. The waiter thought I was French (what is it about me?) and Commando was Moroccan (must be the tan). We had cheese and bacon toasties which were quite nice, although we had to wait a while because, once again, we forgot about Ramadan and the sun had just sunk below the horizon as we arrived. Obviously, when this happens, every Moroccan disappears to break the fast and I can’t blame them. The only English thing there, apart from the menu was the music and the union jacks on the t-shirts of the Moroccan staff. Would I do it again? Possibly but not at sun down during Ramadan.
I didn’t sleep very well last night because of the heat and, as a consequence I overslept this morning which was a pain as it is Commando’s birthday today. When I finally came round he’d already been for his run and, instead of having his first present and card waiting for him when he returned I had to sneak it out of my case when he was in the shower. As we were coming back from breakfast, I could see lots of activity over by the loungers we usually sit at so steered him in a different direction so the pool man’s surprise, whatever it was, as at that point I had no idea, wasnt spoiled. What with all the time taken up with present opening and trying to distract him from looking out of the window at the pool area until I was sure they had finished, I was running really late. By the time It was safe to let him go down to the pool and I’d had my own shower it was almost not morning any more and there was no time to go and have coffee with Hollie and Rose. Hopefully we will be able to catch up tomorrow morning.
The pool man had excelled himself, wrapping tinsel all round the edge of our parasol and putting up a happy birthday sign. I could tell Commando was less than impressed with all the fuss and he made me sit under it so everyone would think it was my birthday and not his. We spent the afternoon by the pool, which is just what he wanted for his birthday and just sat chatting and watching the world go by, with him out in the sun trying to get browner and me under the parasol trying not to get any pinker.