Day 4: Tangier to Chefchaouen
'You can buy a villa here for less than the cost of a London basement.'
We finish our coffees. The noise levels in the square are rising. Laughter, argument, the booming of a television set from the darkened interior of a café opposite. It's time for us to move on south, but Jonathan won't let us go just yet.
'I've got some lovely wine. Come back for a quick gargle.'
Jonathan lives not in a villa but in a top floor apartment crowded with books, paintings and fine furniture. Across this fine furniture struts Birdie, the confident comb-tossing, lady-pecking cockerel with whom Jonathan lives. Jonathan shouts at him frequently, but Birdie takes very little notice.
'He's not an egg-laying bird. He's not house-trained. He's a liability.'
'So why do you keep him?'
'Oh well, I'm alone and he's alone and we keep each other company, I suppose. He likes a bit of telly actually. He likes a cup of tea and a bit of telly.'
'Does he like a gargle?'
'Well, he used to have a bit of wine with porridge, but I stopped that. He got a bit fond of it.'
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