Hungry Hungry Hippo.

I have the hiccups. Maybe that’s why I’m thinking in H’s.

By the way, who says Haich and who says Aitch? I say Haich normally. But this is a tangent, and though tangents are often fun and interesting, I must now return to my point.

I am not a hungry hippo. I do like my food, but just not quite to a Moroccan extent. Today I had practically a chicken to myself for lunch, plus chickpea soup stuff, grilled peppers, cucumber slices and then a lot of fruit for dessert.

And I tried to thank Mounia, but I’ve realised something. She doesn’t speak proper Dareeja. She speaks a mix of Dareeja and Berber. This is where the problem lies for me, because what with the trouble she has with my accent anyway, it’s no wonder she has no clue what I’m saying.

Never mind. Hippo out.

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