Tim Dowling: The family is in Morocco, and I’m refusing to haggle

I’m mortified by the idea of quibbling over prices – though my wife is unimpressed by my principled profligacy

On a vast, empty stretch of beach a few miles south of Essaouira in Morocco, there is a woman doing yoga while facing the sea, a warm breeze lifting her hair out behind her as she lowers herself slowly on one leg. She is at peace, until a column of nine quad bikes comes barrelling down the shore, spraying sand and belching smoke as they pass.

This sudden invasion seems both jarring and a little contemptuous, especially from my point of view: I’m driving the fourth quad bike in line.