Marrakech, Morocco: We hadn’t planned to find ourselves dressed in Berber robes and riding camels when we hailed a taxi outside Yves Saint Laurent’s gardens 20 minutes ago… but in the spirit of adventure we’ve taken up our driver’s suggestion and instead of arriving at the Badii Palace to look at the ruins of the Saadian dynasty, I’m now astride Aisha while Coman straddles Halina, and Karim is leading us into the desert landscape, making filthy suggestions as we go.

Rewind a few hours and we start our day with breakfast by the Riad's courtyard pool and a walk through bustling, exotic streets, past market sellers with stalls piled high with oranges and pomegranates, dodging traffic until we arrive at Jardin Marjorelle, the gardens famously designed by Yves Saint Laurent in the '60's after he'd fallen in love with Marrakech. 

However the queue for entry is absolutely enormous and we decide to come back on another day rather than spend a couple of hours standing with hundreds of people in the baking sun to buy tickets. Somehow though, using skills learned from years of music biz practice and taking full advantage of the chaotic organisation on display, we manage to find ourselves at the head of the line, purchase tickets and make our way inside in just a few minutes. 

Feeling mildly guilty at our brazen good fortune we wander through the beautiful bamboos and pagodas, ornamental ponds and cactuses, taking in the cobalt blue and buttercup yellow walls on display, whilst dodging the other camera-toting tourists. If we had queued for two hours or so we'd have been extremely frustrated by the huge crowds in such a small space so we're very relieved to have wangled our way in without the wait, especially as Coman notes that the hordes of visitors outside could save time queuing by going to IKEA for the same colour scheme instead. 

It's when we make our escape that Mohammed, the taxi driver, persuades us to go camel riding in the Palmeraie area. I'd cycled through it five years ago but Coman hadn't visited so we take him up on his suggestion and are soon in our blue robes and listening to Karim detail with disturbing glee the erotic "massage" he thinks camel-riding gives women. Combined with his attempts to make conversation about football and his questions about our marital status and our "girlfriends" back home he shouldn't be surprised not to receive the tip he blatantly asks for, especially not when we've already paid his boss 500 dirhams (€50) for the 30 minute camel ride. 

Mohammed, who no doubt gets a back-hander for bringing us to his camel-owning cousins, is far more congenial, acting as a tour guide while we drive past the palace of the king's mother and pointing out the sheep and camel hides drying in the sun, ready to be taken to the leather tanneries in the souks. 

He also explains the unique appearance of the city, telling us that the planning laws state all new buildings must be constructed in the same ochre-pink hue of the medina walls and be five storeys high to maintain the uniform nature of the old city. We re-enter the medina through one of its 12 gates and pull up outside the Badii Palace, one of the 'must see' destinations we had missed on our previous visit. 

A vast, ruined site it was once one of the most splendid palaces on earth, an opulent, extravagant jewel of 16th Century Islamic architecture, replete with huge pools and water features. Today it is a barren, empty space upon which only the imagination is left to decorate and in which only nesting storks reside, but it must have been quite a wonder to behold 500 years ago. 

By now the sun is baking down so we seek a shady spot in a square in the old Jewish Quarter for lunch before nosing around the shops, looking for lamps and rugs but ending up with some bags of ras el'hanout spices and a fridge magnet instead. Our next stop is another faded treasure of antiquity; the Saadian Tombs, hidden in alleyways behind the imposing Kasbah Mosque. 

It's worth the 10 dirham entry fee for a quick peek but its highlight - the room housing the elaborate marble tombs themselves - has its own long, snaking queue which is moving at a snail's pace... so we move on, walking through the medina to its central point, the famous Kotoubia Mosque, with its adjacent Parc Lalla Hanna gardens of fountains and water features.

The sun is starting to set, casting gorgeous warm light around, which makes it the perfect time to brave the crowds of Jamaa El Fna, the huge square at the heart of the Old City. Full of hawkers and vendors, snake charmers and food sellers it's a vibrant, edgy, chaotic, throbbing confluence of people and history. We wend our way through the crowds seeking the perfect spot to rise above it and watch the sunset. 

Like moths to a flame we find ourselves returning to the same spot and climb the stairs of Cafe Panoramique, where we had previously drunk sweet mint tea to witness the sun sink with blinding, glorious intensity whilst drummers pound out hypnotic rhythms. Five years ago it had been a regular October evening in a different world, but tonight is the last sunset of 2017, the end of a turbulent and dramatic year of global politics. 

We toast our personal happiness and hope for a better year ahead for the world as we chink our mint tea glasses. Who knows if we'll ever do this again...

We walk back through the square as darkness falls, smoke from the food stalls rising into the night sky, and have a New Year's Eve dinner at our Riad, hidden away from the madness of the city. The courtyard pool is decorated with rose petals and as the food is served we are treated to Berber musicians providing entertainment. 

It's all quite lovely until we realise that the musicians are going to keep playing until midnight. The courtyard is like an echo chamber, amplifying their noise to almost unbearable levels. We retire to our room early but even with earplugs in and pillows over our heads it seems they're determined to keep us awake until midnight, and the advent of 2018. They even start banging a cowbell for God's sake!

Whether it's tiredness, wine or they finally give up, we fall asleep around 11.30, ready for whatever the new year will bring!