My next stop was a dingy flat in a grey suburb with grey weather in a grey London. Somehow, I had envisaged a white Christmas with snow covered Christmas trees and lovely green holly decorating every doorway. This cold, dull, drizzly place wasn’t what the doctor ordered, so a few of the flat’s occupants, including myself, hatched a cunning plan to escape and head south through France and Spain to the warm, sunny beaches of southern Morocco. Seven of us chipped in and bought an old Ford Transit van with a few mattresses in the back and off we went...

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