Outside the Koutoubia mosque I see cleaning lorries and men with large brooms and buckets. The walls are being painted pinker than ever. Down the middle of Avenue Mohammed V groups of men are arranging artistic displays of big red Moroccan flags with the golden star pl...

Mustafa is stout, in his fifties, and limps. But he has lovely almond eyes and a nice smile and if he makes an effort he can be quite winning in his way. He is the night manager in my hotel – he comes in at 8pm every night and stays until 10.30 the following morning. H...

I turn up at the hotel I always always stay in when I'm in Marrakech - and the usually cheery Thami on reception looks tense and preoccupied. 'What's up?' I ask and first he tells me that someone's father has died ... which is awful, but doesn't really seem to explain...