I'm on vacation in Marrakech.  After checking in to our hotel last Wednesday, Grant and I went for a walk and ate dinner at the Cafe Argana. We awoke late the next day with a start, jetlagged.  Again we walked into the main square. There we saw the Cafe Argana had been blown up by a bomb. That's what had woken us. The whole front of the restaurant was gone and we could see exactly where we had been sitting the night before, where we would have been killed had we been there when the blast happened.

It was a lucky thing we weren't crazy about the food and we had slept in or we might have returned that day.  There's something very sobering and chilling and also galvanising about a lucky escape like that.  I think I do live in the moment, treat every day as though it were my last, all that sort of stuff. But this very real and very violent reminder of what a thin string our lives can hang on has made me even more determined to appreciate what I have, and to never forget how much anger there is in the world.

We are in a beautiful hotel. This is the very calming view from the window of one of our rooms