Marrakech, Morocco: It’s New Year’s Day, 2018, a day for resolutions and optimism but sadly neither of us have slept particularly well and Coman’s cough has become rather nasty, so we’re not as full of the joys of life as we’d hoped. I head downstairs in search of coffee while he gets another hour’s sleep, ready for the day ahead.

Our plan today is shopping. Last time around we had restricted luggage but we’ve come prepared this time, with empty bags ready for Moroccan treasures to decorate our home, which is about to undergo a major refurbishment. Coman has always regretted not buying light fittings and lamp shades on our previous visit so we’re on the hunt for suitably exotic examples, along with potentially a rug or two if any catch our eyes.

Our Riad is situated close to the Fondouks, populated by artisan workshops and courtyard sellers, some with the most exotic and expensive antiques on display and others laden with trinkets and mass-produced souvenirs. It’s like walking through an endless Aladdin’s cave, with far too much choice to make a decision, compounded by the ludicrous prices at which vendors start the haggling process, stating, “It is business, you understand?” and “What is your best price, sir?” Well, at most a third of your inflated ask!

Carpets sellers offer us tea and light merchants un-hook a succession of lamps to pop bulbs in and tell us how handmade they are. With no decisions made we stumble across Le Jardin Secret which, as its name suggests, is a hidden oasis. The restored gardens of an ancient Riad, we pay the entrance fee and head inside, away from the clamour and din of pollution-spewing motorbikes and throngs of tourists, to wander the peaceful gardens and drink mint tea on a balcony, soaking up the sunshine and the peace and quiet within.

Suitably restored we venture further into the medina and down La Rue du Moussaine we enter the souks and wander through the byzantine streets, lined with shops and stalls, selling all manner of goods – spices, ceramics, lights, fabrics, decorations, slippers and more. Eventually we spot a light fitting that will work perfectly in our bedroom, a decorative brass pendant with small coloured jewels in its centre, and begin the haggling process. From a starting point of 1450 dirhams, we manage to settle at 700, our biggest concern being whether the damn thing will even fit in our luggage as it’s quite a sizeable piece.

Once it’s wrapped we emerge from the shady alleys into a sun-drenched square, where the old slave market used to be. It houses the restaurant Nomad, recommended for vegetarians with a rooftop terrace perfect for taking in the sights. Unfortunately its popularity is such that it’s completely full and we’re advised to make a booking for tomorrow instead. Not being much use for two hungry shoppers today, we search out an alternative, finding a basic but quiet little spot nearby where we shelter from the sun indoors.

Nevertheless the heat is sapping and, flagging a little, we realise we have no desire to keep bartering through the afternoon. Instead we'd like to tick off another of the "must see" sights of Marrakech, however some preparation is required - we can't be lugging a huge package wrapped in brown paper into the rarified environs of one of the world's grandest hotels, the luxurious haunt of the wealthy and influential for the past century or so. 

After retracing our steps back through the souk's maze and along the streets of the Fondouks, we deposit our purchase at the Riad and shower and change into clothes befitting the elegance of La Mamounia, the hotel beloved of everyone from Winston Churchill and Alfred Hitchcock to George Clooney and Orlando Bloom. With the hot sun starting its warm descent we wander along the Boulevard Fatima Zahra, down past the Koutoubia Mosque and arrive at the entrance to the most famous address in Marrakech. 

Walking in nonchalantly we somehow bypass the x-ray machines of the security guards, and stroll unquestioned through the sumptuous lobby bar out into the hotel’s landscaped gardens, past the super wealthy patrons sipping cocktails and soaking up the sun. At the end of the manicured lawns, its paths bordered by rose bushes and orange trees, we take a seat by an Islamic-styled pavilion to order drinks and revel in our surroundings. However, the menu comes as quite a shock - a glass of champagne is €33, a small glass of wine is €18 and a bottle of beer is €14. We opt instead for an ice cream and sorbet, at far more reasonable prices - and enjoy every tiny mouthful. 

Realising that dinner in La Mamounia will require a new mortgage, we decide to explore options in the Ville Nouvelle area of Gueliz instead; so named because when the French first colonised Marrakech and started building a church at the heart of their new town, the locals mispronounced “église” and thus its moniker was born. The boulevard leading us there takes us past one of Marrakech’s most acclaimed restaurants, The Red House, tiled and similar to Dar Essalam which we missed on our first night. However, the still-early hour means it’s completely devoid of patrons and its menu is so meat-heavy that we’re unable to find a single dish we can eat.

Walking on, we spot a Carrefour supermarket, and mindful of the inflated costs we’ll be facing at our next hotel, decide to stock up on drinks at more reasonable prices. Clinking as we go, we wander down the main avenue to the heart of the new town, seeking out a suitably inspiring restaurant for our final night in the city before we move to our palace in the country.

The area is full of young Marrakechi’s and tourists, with various Asian and European restaurants, alongside international fast food outlets, but nowhere quite captures our imagination. Opting for an old faithful we seek out a previous destination, Le Grande Cafe de la Poste – where we ate on our last trip – to have a pit-stop before deciding where to go next. Lounging into its old colonial atmosphere we head up to the second-floor bar for margaritas and mojitos, finger food and jazz, and check out a restaurant online that we’d seen a sign for back in the Bab Dakoullah area of the medina that we’re staying in.

The staff of Le Grande Café de la Poste arrange a taxi for us and we’re dropped off at the end of our street, with Google Maps indicating that the Lotus Privilege restaurant is right in front of us. Various locked doors suggest that Google is lying but just before we give up we notice a little sign pointing down a deserted alleyway. Investigating further, past some ruined buildings, we’re discovered by a liveried doorman who leads us around a corner to a beautifully lit entrance and asks us if we have a reservation.

Confessing we’re just chancing our luck he ushers us forwards into a spectacular courtyard where the maitre’d tells us they’re fully booked but he’ll see what he can do, whilst the glamorous hostess looks us up and down before deciding we’re suitably attired to grace the establishment. It really is quite gorgeous, and far more high-end than we had anticipated – a beautiful garden at the heart of various opulent dining rooms, with incredible mirrored bathrooms to boot.

We take a table in the courtyard, where Coman is served the strongest G&T he’s ever had and I receive a sizeable glass of wine, and wait to learn our fate whilst various pre-booked guests arrive and musicians entertain us, whirling tassles around their heads and ululating along to stringed instruments and Moroccan castanets. Eventually we are led into a private room where a fire has been lit and seated next to some rich red curtains, where a few minutes later we are joined on the next table by three French ‘omosexuals.

When our waiter next appears we are presented with a Tasting Menu, scarily devoid of any price but with assurances that they will cater for our vegetarian needs, and a wine list that ranges from reasonable to eye-watering. Deciding that we will have to roll with whatever happens next – and hope to God that they take credit cards – we await our first course; a starter of nine Moroccan salads.

It is quite simply delicious, a feast as much for the eyes as it is for the tastebuds. Beautifully plated we are presented with dishes of carrot, ginger and sesame: spicy carrot and orange; caramelised pumpkin; roasted peppers; aubergine caviar; sweet aubergine & almond; pastry and ricotta; stuffed courgette; pickled turnips – and a sharp lemon sauce. 

We order a bottle of Domaine du Sahari vin rouge, which I remember from our previous trip as being particularly amiable, and tuck into mains of an exquisite vegetarian tagine with roasted artichokes and a slightly greasy vegetable pastilla, rounded off with an orange crème brûlée and a buxom belly dancer!

We finish at 10pm as a new wave of diners are only beginning to arrive, and brace ourselves for an enormous bill, but find we have spent just over £100, less than half of what such a meal would have cost in London. With stomachs full – and a sigh of relief – we head into the night with just a short walk to our Riad and a beckoning bed.