The journey out of Morocco is easy, except the customs, where we are fleeced. This kind of corruption is stereotypical of African customs - maybe unfairly so. But on this occasion it really annoys Paul, who is dead against the principle. It is a shame, as it momentarily leaves a bad impression of an otherwise fantastic trip.
We arrive in Gibraltar quite late, and get into a quaint British pub just before last orders. It is a fatal move for Paul, who has fish from the hotplate - and gets chronic food poisoning.
I don't get to witness this - as I have to fly back to teach my students back in Worcester.
