Morocco | What I miss most ...

 Oh god, for a toilet...!

I have immersed myself deeply in Moroccan life for months now. I can even hold my own at the weekly laundry session by the well, where the women are wont to cluck and tut at me, with smiles whilst shaking their heads at my ineffective city ways.

But secretly, and with a little shame, I have to confess: I dream of a gleaming white, sparkling, pungently pine fragranced toilet. With a tiled floor. And tiled walls. Godly clean, gleaming, sanitized and FRESH.

 When I get back to London, I'm going to sit on the toilet.

 No, no! First, I'm going to DROP MY KNICKERS to the floor.

 To the FLOOR, can you believe the LUXURY!!? I won't have to hoist my knickers halfway down, petrified that they might touch the piss soaked floor, or worse - that my ridiculous squatting position, might splash unspeakables in every direction, including onto my half-mast undies.

 Oh for a clean, fresh, gleaming bathroom floor!

 And then, I'm going to plop down, bare skin on the seat,  without a care in the world.

 Without a care for some pestilence contagion that might ooze up from the brown and yellow stained toilet seat (if there IS one) and that might penetrate my skin through air-osmosis, even as I hover an inch above the surface.

 Oh, a clean seat, cool and sanitized under my bum.

 And then I'm going to breathe in.

 And out.

 And in again.

 Yes. I'm going to sit on the toilet, without holding my breath till my head feels like it will explode while I heave and gulp to keep from retching.

 And then, whilst I'm sitting, I'm going to touch the walls. And the floor. And the toilet. And the door.

 I'm going to enjoy every inch of clean surface that I can touch with wild abandon.

 And when I'm done. I'm going to use piles of soft, fluffy white, clean, fresh toilet paper.


 And then... oh THEN, I'm going to FLUSH the toilet...

 Glorious, clean, fresh, water, gushing down the bowl - hopefully drenched in disinfectant that makes pleasant bubbles and turn the  water aquamarine, like a photoshopped tropic ocean.

 I am going to gaze down the clean, shiny bowl as it flushes, till everything disappears and there is nothing left but pure white porcelain and sparkling water.

 And I will smile and think of the next person, who will come after me (if I let anyone in the toilet at all) and who will encounter a dazzingly clean, fresh toilet.

 And then, as a final, WANTON and LUXURIOUS treat, I might even spray some Mango and Orange, Marks & Spenser air fragrance.

  Oh god... the fantasy...

 I think, I might not wait till I actually need the toilet at all. I think I might just perform the holy and cleansing ritual... just for the hell of it.


 The thing I miss most, is a toilet.