Then press the 'hash' key??????????

I suppose that it's to do with me being an 'Oldie', but I thought that 'hash' was something to eat which was made of corned-beef, onion and potatoes! HASH? Lo and behold, they mean 'the key with the cross-hatching symbol', you know, criss-cross lines; the method beloved of artists, whose medium is the pen and ink, to create areas of shade or darker colour. The picture below (found via 'Wikipedia') shows hatching and cross-hatching. 

Not that it's of any real consequence, mind you, but I don't agree with all this messing about with English. If you want to describe something which is new, or at least innovative, then make up your own words rather than try to change the meaning of words already in use, and understood to mean something entirely different to that to which you're referring!!!! There's enough of THAT sort of thing around already, thank you.

Sorry about that, it has nothing whatsoever to do with tonight's Blog other than I was thinking of it as a bit of a hash, in that it's a mix-up of several different things, like a corned-beef hash, in fact! RANT OVER.

Now then, "Hello, my name's Edward and I'm a smoker!" That's how the alcoholics do it at 'Alcoholics Anonymous', isn't it? As many of you know, I promised Freda that I'd chuck smoking when we moved to Luxor and I have, to all intents and purposes. It's just that people keep offering me a cigarette, and seeing as I still enjoy the odd one or two, I usually take them! So, I also accepted a real Cuban cigar when it was offered.

Yes, that's right 'ROMEO Y JULIETA' and underneath it says Habana Cuba.
According to our friends at Wiki, they're made by the state owned company, and are hand-rolled. (Although I shouldn't think that they're still rolled on the thighs of dusky maidens!) It seems that they cost over $6 each, rather more pricey than the Castellas which I used to smoke when I was a youth. It'll do for the Winter Palace one evening. (As the saying in Geordieland goes: "It's nee gud bein poor and luckin poor!")

Poor people often have to 'make do and mend', and we've been practising it for years! I love to root around in second-hand shops and jumble sales and the like, other people's rubbish fascinates me. So, we are frequent visitors to the Second-Hand-Man up off New TV Street, as I'm sure I've told you before, Dear Reader. (Do keep up!)

This week, he had a selection of newly acquired goodies for us to peruse. Of course Madame Farida is the haggler, not me. When she got about 25 or 30 feet away from the shop entrance, the man was calling her back with the promise that he'd take her offer after all! Actually, he squeezed another 20le out of her for the delivery, but that was OK. Here are our two latest bargains:

The table is destined for the Guest Apartment, after being rubbed down and re-varnished, while the mirror has gone up in our bedroom, replacing a smaller one. We really like them both!

Something we DON'T like, is being over-run with dickie birds! While we were sitting on the small terrace at the Nile Palace, we couldn't escape them:

Neither could we cannot escape them at home! They won't leave Freda's Hibiscus alone.

The last one, with the yellow breast, is really beautiful; and I'm not a Twitcher by any standards. Just across the way a little, one of our neighbours has recently started to keep pigeons:

It mystifies me, just how he keeps them safe from the local cats. But they mustn't like the way he looks after them! (More of which in a minute!)

We have an 'up-lighter' on the roof terrace with a 500 Watt bulb, it's quite bright! The halogen bulbs are Chinese, of course, and don't last all that long, but they're cheap, so we cannot really complain. It went off the other day, after Freda had complained about having to shoo away two of our neighbour's pigeons, who were perched on the lamp. They also perch on top of the A/C unit, and drop their droppings there! (But I have a cunning plan for that.)

I went to change the bulb, and look at what I found............

That's right, the cheeky little feathered beggars were building a nest in our lamp as they were obviously wanting to run away from our cruel neighbour!  I was astonished at their choice of nest-building material, it was nearly all bits of binding wire, with a safety pin thrown in for good measure!

Anyway, I've evicted them!

This next picture might appeal to the small number of folk who are familiar with the names 'Eric Olthwaite' and 'Howard Moleson' (him of 'a new Spear and Jackson' fame). It's of a 'Lovely Shovel' which we just happened to find in the middle of the road on Sharia Karnak, near to the 'Egyptian Exchange'.

Finally, we (Luxor, that is) have been inundated with tourists this past couple of weeks, the only drawback being that they have been nearly all Egyptian tourists, who won't spend a penny where a halfpenny will do! I took the following snap at the Nile Palace, just to prove to you that some Muslim women can and do go into the swimming pool fully clothed.

Mind you, they were certainly enjoying their swimming. It just goes to show, doesn't it? 

"Rufus Roo Beats The Baggage Charge"

That's the slogan of the Rufus Roo competition, where some lucky Blighter is going to win FOUR of these very handy waistcoats! (And, like the National Lottery; "You've got to be in it to win it!")

Of course you, Dear Reader, will have already read the recent Our Luxor blog about our own airport adventure where such an accessory would have been a huge boon, but where, in the event, my old Barbour jacket had to suffice. Well, there's a bit of a story to my actual finding out just how versatile this 'Big Pocket' thing really is. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin!

After the rain last week, we were pretty well stressed out. With all the cleaning etc and the inescapable fact that I was going to have to paint the roof terrace walls, I wasn't the happiest of Bunnies, I can tell you! Then, to top it off, right in the middle of all this trauma, we received a panicked telephone call from a lady with a Geordie accent! It was the famous (or should that read 'infamous'?) lady from the Trip Advisor Luxor forum: newcastlemiss003. This was Tuesday, and about 5:30pm; she only wanted to come and stay with us the following day!

What could we do, when a fellow mangler of the 'Queen's English' was found to be in need? In for a penny; in for a pound, "Of course you can, and welcome!" Mind you, just then, we had no idea of what we were letting ourselves in for!!!!

Freda and I set to, and whizzed through the guest apartment like a proverbial 'dose of salts'. (That's a bit of a colloquialism, meaning very quickly, and originating from the expected speed of the consequences of taking a 'dose' of Epsom Salts, an erstwhile popular remedy for the constipation!) The apartment was soon habitable.

newcastlemiss003 is a regular visitor to our strange adopted hometown, she's obviously as daft as we are! Being of a generous nature, and as soft as claggy toffee, she brings oodles of gifts for the Sunshine Children's Home in Luxor, as well as stuff for some of her Egyptian friends. This largesse comes with its own setbacks, however; she either doesn't bring all the stuff she needs for herself, or she'd have to pay the dreaded 'excess baggage' charges! Not anymore, Matey!

The addition to her wardrobe of the (admittedly not very stylish) Rufus Roo BIG POCKET Travel Jacket, has solved that particular problem. Here's a shot of the children's clothes she managed to fit into the pockets of her Rufus Roo:

Rather impressive, I'm sure you'll agree. As for me, I'll have to make do with my trusty Barbour, although I'm not sure that I could really wear it to come here during the summer months, lol.

Here's another picture, this time showing the actual jacket being modelled by newcastlemiss003 herself:

It's amazing just how small it rolls up to, it would easily fit into a trouser pocket. Although I'd hate to be without my excellent Barbour in the depths of the Windy Nook winters, I've got to admit that for summer jaunts to warmer climes, the Rufus Roo (at 30 odd quid) beats the £200 Barbour as a wearable suitcase!!!!

Little newcastlemiss003 has certainly opened my eyes to its possibilities, as it really did live up to the slogan of "Rufus Roo Beats The Baggage Charge" for her.

Ah-ha, Oh-no...............

Who remembers the Serendipity Singers, and was that song, of 1964, their only claim to international stardom? (If you're under about 55, you'll have absolutely no idea whatsoever of what I'm talking about! If you're going to keep on reading, then perhaps you'd better click onto this: YouTube clip )

The only thing that frightens me about living here in Luxor is the ever present threat of rain!! Now then, I know that that will sound ludicrous to many of you lot, but we do get rain here; sometimes (mostly, actually) it rains for about a minute and by the time you realise that you've felt raindrops and not bird poop, it's stopped again. Nevertheless, sometimes it does really rain! Like rain in England, or even like rain in Wales, for heavens sake! That's when I leap out of bed in blind panic!

Let me explain a little further. Our small rooftop hovel doesn't have a 'permanent' roof; it's not allowed to have one as it's only classed as a 'temporary structure'. So, when we had it converted from the original chicken and goat penthouse, we stipulated a wooden roof; after all, this is Egypt man, no rain! As I've said on here before, ignorance is bliss.

When the rain actually did come down like stair-rods, we were flooded out. It was like walking around in a very large shower/wet-room affair. Much of the accumulated dust from the roof, and the inner roof space, was washed down the interior walls, and the whole place had to be repainted. You know how I dread the thought of wall painting, so you can sympathise with my newfound dread of the rain as well.

As I was typing away at yesterday's blog, the rain was coming and going. It wasn't heavy enough to permeate through the heat-warped timbers, layers of Sahara sand and expanded polystyrene insulation, but I was afeared of going to bed in case it got worse. It did get worse, and Freda and I raced about, either covering things with waterproof sheets or transferring them to the guest apartment, which luckily was not occupied.

Polythene sun-block curtains can come in handy during rainstorms, no matter what anyone says:

 That's the bottom end of our bed!

                                         And that's the floor on my side!

Thankfully, the interior walls haven't taken too much hurt this time, although those outside will have to be repainted. (Actually, they were due anyway.)

                        Can you see the puddles on the roof across the road?

We've spent today cleaning up, obviously, and the washing machine hasn't stopped. Tonight we're sleeping downstairs, it's only till we get our own place spick and span again, and we expect to be back in our own bed tomorrow night (or even during the day, if I get my way, you know that I need little naps now and then). 

Travel DIY?

That's the title of a post on the TripAdvisor Luxor Forum today. I thought that I'd offer the person some light DIY, just to keep his hand in, so to speak, but it wasn't about DIY at all!

I've been a bit busy with my own DIY over the past couple of days, I'll show you later on. Meanwhile, here's a picture that I've wanted to take for some time, only the opportunity hasn't arisen before now:

Suppose that walking on the top of a ladder is sort of similar to stilt-walking, but I think I'll just give it a miss, thank you very much! I well remember the stilts that we had as children, great fun, even if we did pick up a few bruised knees now and then.

These next two aren't exactly DIY. This building, just down on Gold Street, has had men working on it, on and off, for several weeks now. I really am stumped as to what sort of end result they will accomplish with barely enough floor space to have a staircase in it, and being three storeys high! The steel and chicken-wire framework will hold some fancy plasterwork, eventually. Time will reveal all, I suppose.

I didn't tell you about Mohamed Marble, did I? Well, he's the 'stone man' who eventually provided the Aswan granite for the guest apartment kitchen surfaces, a nice, genuine bloke! Well, we've been wanting to do something with the top surface of the cupboard which we use for the guest's breakfast buffet 'cause when the crisp white linen table cloth is removed; it really is quite an eyesore:

We tried the second-hand man up on New TV Street, a while ago, but the stone he had wasn't the right size and I thought it was too expensive for old stuff anyway. How right I was proven to be! Mohamed Marble came up trumps, 115le for the stone (it's the cheapest type, mind you) and 35le for delivery. I complained about the cost of the delivery, but he made a bit of a face and a gesture indicating our 83 stairs, and I relented! (Too soft to make claggy toffee!) In the event, I left Mohamed and the carrier at the street door, as I went and prepared the way for them up onto the roof. After a few minutes, I was wondering where they had gotten to, so started back down. I found Mohamed, two flights down, desperately trying to fill his lungs with enough air to get the oxygen back into the blood which was racing around his overly large body. The carrier had refused to help him up the stairs, and he had carried it himself! I offered to help him up those last two flights, but he wouldn't have it, he'd been paid to deliver, and deliver he would! (Even if it killed him, apparently.)

This new marble top for the breakfast buffet cupboard was only a part of the latest project! Freda has been getting increasingly tired of seeing the ugly satellite dish, which is just over the wall near to the breakfast buffet, so she wanted it screened off, somehow.

Ever compliant, I stepped up to the challenge; "Can we fix it? Yes we can!" (No, nothing to do with 'Jim'll Fix It', certainly not with the latest revelations.) Another sheet of the Islamic patterned stuff, I think! As you know, there's no B&Q or Wicks here, and if you want wood, then you need to find a carpenter who has a tree to cut up, or go to young Mina over the railway and buy his overpriced stuff, which is full of shakes anyway! Good old Abdu, at Karnak, saved the day, yet again. In three days, he managed to squeeze in the production of 15 pieces of varying length timber, to my specification, with which to construct my design.

I started with it at about 4am on Thursday morning? It being the anniversary of the birthday of Muhammad, the Muslims were celebrating in their usual fashion; considerately playing music at full volume while chanting verses, also at full loudspeaker volume, from the Quran ALL NIGHT LONG!

The mitre box I brought from B&Q at Dunston was a real boon, as I had quite a few mitred corners to construct. Like a real DIYer, I nearly had my fore-finger off four times!

As you might notice from the position of the nicks on my finger; I got increasingly faster at getting it out of the way of the sawblade each time it jumped out of the mitre box! My word! That Nu-Skin is grand stuff.

Anyway, here's the first glimpse of my latest efforts, I got it this far by about 11pm on Thursday:

I've purposely left the wood in its natural state, no colour or varnish. Like the air-conditioner covers, I'll let the timber darken naturally, for a year or so, before varnishing; and that's another little job which I accomplished earlier this week, as well, they look lovely! I think I've earned a day off.

Dummler's Dinner?

This short post was prompted by the comment, on the last posting, from Steve Small. (I know it has nothing to do with Luxor, but I'm feeling a little nostalgic!)

When Steve and I were younger, there was a period when we dined at Dummler's Cafe every week-day. The Dummlers were a quite famous family, and had been in the cafe trade in Gateshead for many a long year. Their original premises were in central Gateshead, on Sunderland Road, and not a stone's throw from the very busy High Street. When the town centre went through one of its many re-development phases, Dummler's cafe was knocked down, along with the Essoldo and Ritz picture houses, to make way for the burgeoning industries of the 'Dole' and the 'Nash' (National Assistance) which moved into the towering office blocks and which still scar the town today!

By the time we had found this gem of an eating establishment, it had been relocated to Deckham, which is about a half mile due North from the original. It was now on Old Durham Road, which as the name might suggest to many, was the A1 of former years, the Great North Road which ran from London to Edinburgh. It was now run by the second generation of Dummlers, which consisted of Jimmy and wife Joan, and Jimmy's sister (whose name has, just this second, disappeared from my memory!!). Sometimes they were added to by Jimmy's brother Fred, who sadly eventually committed suicide.

The cafe was a converted downstairs 'Tyneside' flat, the front room and the small back bedroom were diningrooms and the big back room was now the very busy and bustling kitchen, it was marvellous! What fun we had in there.

They had a very wide ranging clientèle, from pensioners and labourers to insurance salesmen and local businessmen. Sometimes there would be up to 8 or 9 in our group when we descended on the place en-masse.

The menu was quiet wide ranging, from lovely Cholesterol sandwiches filled with greasy bacon, to three course lunches (hence Steve's reference to Dummler's Dinners). They had never cooked dumplings as part of the menu, but between the gang of us, we eventually persuaded them to do so. Being vigorous young men, who expended large amounts of energy in our chosen work, we usually had to have 'double' dinners to satisfy our appetites, so with the onset of the dumplings, we would ask for a 'Dummler's Double Dumpling Dinner' much to the amusement of Joan Dummler who usually had the unenviable task of serving us all. I once persuaded her to make me a turnip sandwich, which was delicious, but she went mad when she saw that I'd added it to the hand-written menu, with a price tag of 8 pence!!!! Happy days!

Among the many characters who dined there with any regularity, were Old Fred White and his mate Walter Tindale. These two could keep any audience enthralled for hours with their tales!

Fred had deserted while in the Far East during the war, and had become a very successful gangster in Malaya, or somewhere over there, I cannot quite remember now. After being caught and incarcerated in Lucknow Military Prison for a while, he escaped from a hospital (to where he had been transferred with a self-inflicted cigarette burn on his penis, which he told them he feared was syphilis) and wasn't actually caught again until he was badly injured in a knife fight in Aberdeen, after which he served his sentence on Dartmoor! Over the years, Fred and I spent many a freezing day, huddled over the old pot-bellied stove in my garage, while he recounted tales from different times in his life. By then, of course, he was a very different, old, bloke who was scratching a living cutting up old scrap cars with a large chopping axe!

Likewise with 'Little' Walter, who had been a great horse trader when he was younger, his tales of the goings on at the annual Appleby Horse Fair were sometimes difficult to believe, but I'm sure they were actually true. The gathered throng would be on the floor with laughing, what a character he was! He'd tell us of local characters who also fancied themselves as 'horsey men' and were therefore at the Fair; like Billy 'Sugar' Kelly, the coalman (who was also a regular in Dummler's) who would play his ukelele banjo accompanying Fred 'Boy' Nelson, the fruiterer from Windy Nook, singing and playing his accordion. I'd have paid money to see that, as I knew them both, and they seemed such an unlikely pairing!

Actually, I remember one day in Dummler's when 'Sugar' leapt up, from the table, exclaiming that he couldn't continue with his meal as he suddenly felt sick, because he'd caught sight of the arrival of one Robert Kelly, his brother, and a rival coal merchant; they hated each other with a vengeance!

One of the old pensioners used to go in there three times every day; once for his soup, then a bit later for his main course, and then later again for his pudding! The place was a haven for so many characters, the likes of which we'll never see again, I'm sorry to say.

Later on, Steve took a job as a barman at a local hostelry called 'The Plough' at Deckham, where many of these local coal/horseymen and other general wastrels drank. As each one's turn to pay for the drinks came around, a huge wad of notes would be theatrically pulled from the trouser pocket, so that all and sundry could see the wealth of whosoever's turn it was! They were worse show-offs than schoolboys.

Ah well, back to the present, I suppose! Freda has discovered a new 'project' for me to engage with, so I'd better look willing. You'll get to find out all about it. eventually. TTFN.

What's for dinner Mam?

We have a relatively simple diet, here in Luxor, which mainly revolves around minced beef, chicken breasts, eggs, cheese, beautiful Egyptian spuds and bread, and various bits and bobs to go with the above.  I think I've previously mentioned the lovely mushrooms from Kheir Zaman, which go just spiffingly with scrambled eggs on toast, among other things. Of course we also sample the popular take-away Egyptian fare, Mr Osman's falafel, hawawashi from Karnak, and kofta from Chez Omar, occasionally. We cannot complain about not getting enough nourishment or anything; I've put on two stones in the last 6 years!

It was my Mother's birthday, a week ago, and I remember one of the few things which used to drive her mad was trying to think of what to get, and cook, for meals. When we were little, I don't think it was much of a problem, as I'm almost sure that our weekly menu didn't hardly change, if at all! Like most fortunate children, I loved my Mother's cooking, except for Sunday dinners when we were forced to eat 'steepy' peas; I hated them!!!!

Even after I started working, and the old man and I would go home every lunchtime for a proper dinner and a substantial pudding, I'm almost sure that we had the same week on week. I can still conjure up the smells and tastes of some of my favourite dishes, mmmmmmmmmm! So, it must have been after Dad died, and she eventually married our good friend and neighbour, Alan, that the menu difficulties started.  

We have asked Adam, if his wife would cook some chicken breasts for us, using her special spices, which so enhance the flavour. Eager to show hospitality and friendship, as usual, he readily agreed......but! But they have no butane gas for cooking, that was two days ago and they still don't have any. A man and wife and four growing sons managing on cold fare, and it's still winter here, mind you. The poor of Luxor have very little choice of what to eat, but as long as they get something; they're reasonably content! Our long-time Egyptian friend, Mr Gomah, once told me that in Egypt, 'the life' was very hard, I just thought that it was one of his interminable moans, at the time, but I'm now realising more and more of exactly what he meant.

Enough of that doom and gloom stuff, I didn't get where I am today by concentrating on all that doom and gloom stuff!!!!! (A bit of a sort of a colloquialism there; The "I didn't get where I am today by..." part is lifted from an ancient British TV sitcom called "The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin", which was hilarious at the time.)

I started the day, today, in thankfulness (again!) that we chose to live right here, on the East Bank of the Nile. This morning, the West Bank had disappeared again!

I got to thinking that it must be akin to living in Brigadoon, being stuck over there and the landscape coming and going at will!

We splashed out this afternoon, and spent 50le on tea and Nescafe at the Old Winter Palace. I know it sounds rather outrageous, but you do get three teabags and three sachets of Nescafe, with as much boiling water as you want, and also some nice little homemade cookie things. Plus, they're a different type of tourist to watch, and in unsurpassed surroundings!

On the way home (walking, so as I might lose some weight by getting more exercise as well as limiting my bread intake) we came across the current 'City Farm' a street or two away from us.

(The small part of a white building visible in the top lefthand corner, is the Susanna Hotel on Sharia Karnak.)

This scene was quite unusual, in that a special manger, full of food, was there for the creatures, as well a bucket of water. They're being fattened for the Prophet's Birthday Feast on 24th of this month. I only hope that there'll be gas aplenty to go around for the cooking, I couldn't fancy cold and uncooked goat meat, thank you very much!

A day in the life........!.

It's blinkin' freezing here! Honestly, all I want to do is stay in bed, as snug as a bug in a rug!!!

Dream on, brother; the world doesn't stop because it's cold. Our current guests wanted breakfast at 07:00 this morning, as they were bound for Abydos and Dendera. We were up at six, even before the balloons had taken off I was wiping along the roof terrace handrails.

Mind you, before they would have reached Qena, I was back under the duvet!!! The table was cleared away and the dishes washed in record time, I think. Never mind, the weather is improving from tomorrow, or so Freda tells me.

I had hoped to invite our guests (an Australian couple) to join us in a visit to the hawawshi man at Karnak, but Freda thought they wouldn't come anyway, so off we went this evening with good old Ahmed the caleche man.

We usually park the caleche next to the central reservation of the dual carriageway. It's actually a very wide dual carriageway, and the vast majority of the traffic only uses one side, thus turning it into a single two-way carriageway. They're queer folk these Egyptians, I tell you!

Anyway, we parked there whilst Ahmed went off to get the hawawshi and Freda's macarona. The local gang were congregating in front of us, actually on the central reservation. It started off with a couple of small laddies, about six or seven I think, and a small fire to warm themselves. As the fire was fed with bits of cardboard and odd pieces of expanded polystyrene and broken palm stick crates etc, other slightly older boys arrived. then a three wheeled motorcycle truck arrived with some bigger boys again. They brought with them some sugar cane to chew, they were obviously going to enjoy a good night around their 'central' heating!

On the way back, I wanted to call and see someone (a man about a dog, perhaps?)  about which I'll tell you on another occasion. But his place is at Zawaggy, across the railway lines. Straightforward you'd imagine, but no, this is Luxor, remember?

We got to the very busy traffic island where the airport road joins Sharia Karnak, and Ahmed just drove straight onto the wrong side of the island, with the traffic haring towards us. Thankfully, no-one was killed today, and we escaped the shouting and yelling drivers as we crossed over the bridge which straddles the Kebash Road, to make our way alongside Sphinxes on the Eastern side.

As we neared the next major junction (beside the Two Brothers Coffeeshop) we came across this strange sight:

It really is one of those "Only in Egypt!" pictures, eh? Heaven only knows what the load comprises! See the boy on the top?












From there, we had to negotiate the road down the side of the new flyover. It's always a tight squeeze, which is made even tighter with the extra stalls selling the usual tat and sugar dollies with which they celebrate the birthday of Muhammad.

Emerging from the crush directly under the highest part of the flyover, just beside the Abu Jude level crossing, we found that the crossing was closed altogether! This meant that we had to follow the railway line along to 'our' crossing on Mustapha Kamel Street.

Two problems arose at this point; number one, was that we'd be going the really long way around, but number two was potentially more serious. We would be passing one of the blokes from whom Ahmed buys his horse feed, and he still owed him 75le out of the 300le debt which he had built up before Christmas! Stout fellow that he is (actually, isn't) Ahmed sailed on, and brazenly asked for two bags of grain while handing over slightly less than their value. The poor beggar was shouting after us as we pulled away! (Mind you, he was laughing as well as all of us.)

With the Abu Jude crossing being closed; 'our' crossing is having to cope with twice as much traffic, so it's pretty busy, as you can imagine. The other side of the crossing is now also a dual carriageway, running at right-angles to the actual crossing, with gaps where the traffic can make 'U' turns in order to access the level crossing, or the continuation of Mustapha Kamel Street, from either carriageway. Following the flow of the traffic to the right would mean travelling a couple of hundred metres to the gap, whereas the gap to the left is only about 50 metres away. Yes, you've guessed it; straight into an oncoming mass of (what looked like) a thousand cars and mini-buses and donkey carts and motor bikes, cracking his whip as he went, and demanding that he had right of way because he was driving a horse! I love Ahmed to death, but he doesn't half frighten me at times.

More by luck than good management, I'm sure, we eventually got to where I wanted to be, and the business was conducted successfully. We had an uneventful journey home, collapsing into our seats when we finally made it up the stairs! Still in one piece, al hamdulillah!!!!!

Mmmmmmmmmmmmm?

Hello, and good morning. (Well, it is here in Luxor, anyway!)

I feel a bit more human, now that I've got a dish of porridge inside me. That wasn't the case an hour ago, though! There I was, at about 06:30, floating in dreamland, when all of a sudden I was rudely awakened by a roaring sound; balloons!!!

Of course, they aren't supposed to cross the Nile, but they do when the wind is right. Nothing particularly unusual then? Apart from the fact that there were at least ten balloons up at the same time.

By the time I'd actually roused myself, pulled on a pair of pants and staggered and stumbled onto the roof terrace, four of them were disappearing over Zawagi somewhere, one looked as if he was going to land on our roof, another was disappearing behind the Susanna Hotel (like he had landed on Sharia Karnak) and another four were flying at different heights and distances away,  but all of then seemed to be heading for "Our Luxor". (Perhaps the pilots wanted to show their clients whereabouts they could find really good independent accommodation, lol!)

The last time I took any notice, there were eight balloon companies operating in Luxor, and after the horrific accident of a few years ago, the powers that be changed the regulations to allow only one balloon from each company to actually be in the air at any given time. So what's happened?

I hope that either there are now more balloon companies or that the Air Traffic Control people have rescinded their restriction. But, in the back of my mind, I cannot help but wonder whether the old backhander culture isn't reasserting itself? After all, who wants to turn business away in these hard times, if a few quid in the right pocket will get you what you need?

Here's a selection of bleary-eyed pictures from earlier on this morning:

And here's another one which demonstrates the need for regulation in Egypt:

Yes, yes, I know it's only a donkey cart wheel! But can you imagine the difference between the poor little creature pulling a cart with roller bearings in the wheels and dragging this along? It must be like pulling a cart with the brakes on!

I suppose it's good news seeing so many balloons up, it must mean that there are tourists about, which is what we all hope for, after all.

What a "Carry-On"! (In praise of the humble Barbour Jacket.)

What a Carry-On indeed! We've been travelling back and forward to Luxor for quite some time now, and really thought we had it sorted.

We've brought allsorts of things over from England, and never had to pay excess baggage. The Kirby vacuum cleaner, for instance, and the electric oven for the guest apartment, even the three metre parasol for the roof terrace! They all came as straightforward ordinary baggage!

We found that our 'carry-on' bag just had to fit in the cage for it to be OK, it didn't matter what weight it was, as long as it fit into that measuring device. I've seen the the time I could hardly lift the blessed thing into the overhead locker! Never mind, Flybe have put a slight fly in the ointment!

I need to digress here, just a bit though, it won't take long. Our last travelling cases gave up the ghost on our journey back to England in November, so we needed to replace them with something. Trouble is, that the smaller of the 'sets' of suitcases seem to outlast the larger ones by a fairly big margin, and never mind what we pay or what supposed quality the new set is, they still get ripped, busted or bent beyond recognition by the considerate baggage handlers. We've found that there's no economic sense in buying posh and expensive luggage, so we now usually buy the cheapest available! Which, logically, leads on to the realisation that 'free' must the cheapest of the lot.

Freda found a very useful website a while ago, called 'Freecycle'. It's great, people advertise on it, to let others know what they have which they no longer want, and wish to give away, while other people advertise for things which they would like, but would rather not pay for. I think it was probably helped in its formation by the astronomical charges which local government bodies now extract, from those who finance them in the first place, to take rubbish away from private homes, and can actually save you quite a few quid as well as helping someone else out. Winners all round! Lo and behold, someone in Chopwell (which used to be known as Little Moscow, because of the high concentration of communists who lived there) had two large suitcases to give away. Cutting a long story (of missed appointments and many miles travelled) short, we got the two cases. They're HUGE!

Back to the story, eh? We had quite a bit of extra stuff to bring over with us this time, as several people had hoped that we could help them out with shoes and football boots and trainers and Bisto (An ex-pat Sand Dancer, would you believe?) and a hoody and a Christmas pudding and......the list is endless! But, of course, the weight thingy is the problem isn't it?

We have our luggage scales, and I've got tennis elbow with lifting the blooming cases up and down on the scales so many times! Finally, we got the big case down to 21.8 kilos, and the next one to 18.5, so were reasonably happy that we'd get by with those. The carry-on case was pretty heavy, but that didn't matter. Number One Son gave us a lift to the airport in his lovely estate car, bags of room! After not quite kicking the self-service-check-in-machine to bits, we queued to hand over our baggage.

To cut yet another long story short; our luggage scales may as well go in the bin, for what blinkin' use they are, and we spent about 15 minutes with all the cases open on the airport floor. Yes, Flybe's policy is that, in addition to fitting in the cage, carry-on bags must not weigh more than 10kgs! Plus, both of our bags to go in the hold were also overweight!

Now then, we've all heard about these fancy waistcoat jobbies, which have poachers pockets here there and everywhere, in order to carry a further 10 kilos on board? Well, if you have a trusty old Barbour jacket, you needn't go out and buy one of those. My Barbour weighed 9.5 kgs (I asked the lady to check it on her scales) by the time we left her counter. In my standard Barbour, I managed to get: 8 'Oldie' magazines, 9 Private Eye magazines,

 1 Dell Laptop, 1 (Christmas present) Android Tablet, 2 Jamaica Ginger Cakes,

1 kilo Asda Pastry Mix, 1 kilo Asda Crumble Mix, the camera, half a packet of Haggis and Cracked Black Pepper crisps (from M&S, you've just got to try them!!!!) and a half packet of Aldi Ginger Biscuits! Well done that Barbour jacket, it certainly saved our day, if we'd had bacon I could have said that it had saved our bacon, couldn't I?

At the Gatwick Travelodge, we had another sort through the cases as we tried to save the cakes from being entirely squashed and things like that. I'd bought three steak pies from John the Butcher, one plain steak, one steak and onion and a third with steak and mushroom. I was sure that Freda would like at least one! These were still in good condition, being packed in the giant case, and went down very well with the extra tea and extra little cartons of milk which I blagged from the Travelodge receptionist.

When we finally got to the easyJet check-in, after standing in an 800 foot queue (roughly calculated from the size and number of floor tiles between the posts holding the seatbelt type straps which fashioned the queue into a snake, winding across the floor in front of the check-in desks 10 times ) for an hour, the two big cases weighed in at one tenth of a kilogramme under the overall limit. AlHamdulillah!

The flight was greatly eased by the munching of a ham and something quiche, which Freda purchased in the airport, along with a tuna and mayo sandwich and a bottle of very expensive water. I have to say, though, that my new toy (the Tablet) was fab! I had downloaded the Arabian Nights (Edward Lanes translation) from Kindle for £1.29 and read from it while listening to a folk trio, from Kettering, known as Hex, whose CD I also got for Christmas. (Entitled "Sleep when you're dead") I've got to say that I'm enjoying the CD immensely, they're like a cross between the Watersons and Swan Arcade. (Not the most popular or well known artistes, but right at the top of their genre, believe me!)

 It turned out to be one of our most pleasant flights of late!

We were pleased to get back home to Luxor, nevertheless, and the CLEANING!!!!

Obviously, we've had to be out and about a bit, and in doing so we came across a couple of shops we'd never seen before:

I've been forced to watch this drivel on the telly for the sake of my beautiful granddaughter Kezia, but I really think that she was above it anyway!

The last one isn't quite the right shade of blue to be a Cadbury's Caramel, but that's certainly part of the Cadbury logo! Only in Egypt, eh?

When we called at the Nile Palace for tea and Nescafe, we realised that we were really 'home', when we were welcomed by our old saxophone playing friend:

Yes indeed, only in Egypt! See you soon.

Simple Pleasures.

Hello again, I'll bet that you all thought that I'd forgotten about you, didn't you?

Well, you'll be gratified to know that I haven't, how could I when so many of you have shown us so much kindness over the past couple of years? The fact of the matter is that I've really not got much that's worth relating! Of course, we all know that bad news is what sells newspapers, and that people are more likely to want to read the sensational type of offerings rather than everyday 'homey' stuff. That's all I have!

For instance:

Most people who aren't British, will not know what this picture is of. But a closer inspection will reveal, to many English people at least, that it's a slice of 'game pie'. (With a little HP Fruity Sauce, for dipping into!) Now then,while I admit that it's not the be all and end all of British cuisine, it is a lovely change from the diet which we have become used to in Egypt.
It's a simple pleasure!

Being able to see and look into the eyes of our family members, while we are conversing with them, is another simple pleasure. Hearing and seeing young Coco giggle is definitely another:

I could just eat him!!!

Of course, seeing all of our grandchildren is always a very special pleasure as well as a simple one. Where would we all be without them; those children who give us so much pleasure, while not having the responsibility of their full time care?

Yet another simple pleasure came by way of an email just yesterday. It was another award from our advertising company 'FlipKey'. For the second year running, they've awarded us the 'Top Luxor Rental' accolade, and a badge to display on our blog. You can see it on the right of this page, just below the same award for 2011. The 'simple pleasure' is just to know that someone appreciates the work that we put in!

As I'm sure you're all aware by now, I love singing! Along with singing in our local Chapel each Sunday, I also attend South Shields Folk Club on most Sunday evenings while I'm at 'home'. Here, I join with sister Susan and brother-in-law Roy, offering some ditty or other which we used to sing more regularly in our youth, forty or so years ago. We aren't all that 'good' but we are better than some, I can assure you! On Sunday last, the club had the family singing group known as 'The Wilsons' from Teeside, as guests. They're quite famous (having performed for the 'Proms' at the Albert Hall, as well as being sought after to appear at many of the major folk festivals up and down the land) and are really very good! I took a few short videos of them, just to give you one as a taster:

Last Friday evening, we were at the north east's most prestigious music venue; 'The Sage' at Gateshead. Our Susan has, for several years, been giving those of us who enjoy this particular style of music, tickets for the annual Christmas show performed by Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band. This year, there were Susan and Roy, Alice and I, and Benjamin, Bridget and Benjamin's daughter Kezia, who's 11. (Kezia was actually being born while New York's 'twin towers' were being crashed into by the 11th September terrorists.)  

You might have heard of Maddy Prior; she's the lead female singer in Steeleye Span, of 'All Around My Hat' and 'Gaudete' fame. The Carnival Band are probably less well known, but certainly not short on well qualified and exceptionally talented musicians. Their 'leader', Andy, specialises in playing medieval instruments. Together, they usually make for a highly enjoyable evening of music, some of which is familiar, while some of it can be really quite obscure, but enjoyable, nevertheless. This years show was perhaps a bit specialist for much of the first half, and consequently less entertaining for the more casual members of the audience, although the Transylvanian dance tunes in the middle of it were magic, and the second half was excellent, and as entertaining as usual! 

Although the following video wasn't taken at that particular concert, it is typical of  one aspect of their wide-ranging repertoire, enjoy!

I hope you liked that.

On Monday evening, we had the usual 'Community Carols' at chapel; always well attended and enjoyed. This service reunites many people who have moved away or moved churches, or who have 'ceased to meet', as has traditionally been the term used in Methodism.. For most it's another simple pleasure as well as a reminder that Christmas is not just about presents over-eating and 'good works', but about living an extraordinary life, with God at the centre!

I'd better shove off now, as duty calls.

Back in Blighty, to Disaster, Rain and Frustration!

Well, we're home again, our English home, that is! It's been lovely to be re-united with our family, and how 'Little Coco' has grown! He's like Pinnochio was at the end of the Walt Disney classic; he's a 'Real Boy', even though he's only 16 weeks.

The disaster is the result of my idiot memory! If I'd remembered how the remaining upvc was to be allocated from when I left it standing on the landing in August, I wouldn't have cut the wrong piece which left me a 45 inch piece short of finishing the rear windows. Of course, when I went back to the place which sells it, it was Saturday morning; and they were closed. Never mind, Monday would do. I wanted to get the rear windows finished before our friend from Luxor (Beverley, who now  lives back in Dumfries) came to stay for a few days. It wasn't to be, though!

Here's the place:

I started the morning with good intentions, did I tell you before that our bins (trash cans, to our readers from across 'The Pond') have been stolen? Well..........we should have two 'wheelie bins' one for general household rubbish, and the other, which has a separate compartment within it, for different recyclable items. They empty one bin each week, alternating between the rubbish and the recyclables. I HATE IT!!!!!!!

Once upon a time, the binmen had a relatively strenuous job, heaving bins full of ash and general household detritus out of the backyard and lifting it up to empty it into the waiting truck. Nowadays, they wheel the bin (that's on condition that it's been put in the correct place by the householder, and the handles are pointing in the right direction with the bin lid fully closed, of course) to the back of a fantastically engineered and expensive 'refuse collector' truck, hook it onto the waiting contraption, and press a button! Because we are all being entreated to 'save the planet' by recycling, we now are required to separate all the differing types of garbage into different bins and boxes. Cans should be washed out, cardboard flattened, cellophane removed from window envelopes and tops removed from glass bottles, the list seems endless. And we don't get paid for relieving the binmen from these, their arduous tasks! No, in fact, our payments to the Council (whether rates, community charge, council tax or whatever they wish to call it) seem to rise exponentially, partly because of the cost of the fancy and extra bins, along with the fleets of fabulous new and complicated trucks, all of which must cost a king's ransom!

Seeing as we don't have bins any more, we've been slipping the odd bag or two into my mother's bin, or my sister's,  but it's very unsatisfactory. Freda won't hear of paying £20 each for new bins, just for them to possibly be stolen again!

Feeling soft in the head, I decided to do the local authorities job for them, just this once, and separated and prepared all the rubbish, and then put it into Benjamin's car to take to the dump. I really felt quite 'public spirited'!

On arrival at the 'Waste Station' I politely informed the 'operative' that I had "A bag of glass bottles and jars, cleaned. A bag of plastic milk cartons, some flattened pizza boxes and two bags of general household rubbish." There are 15 large skips (dumpsters) standing around the edge of the yard. From past experience I know that there are some for ferrous metals, non-ferrous metals, wood, electrical items, TV's and computers, obviously there are skips for allsorts.

I was utterly lost for words, absolutely astonished, when the operative said, "Put it in number one, mate."

All that enormous expense, and criminalising of people using the wrong bin for the wrong items, the 'bin police' of the popular press, the concealed spy cameras! All for this man to say, "Put it in number one, mate."

My disbelief was not helped by my mother's retelling of my brother's tale of being sure that he saw the binmen empty all of the communal recycling bins at his block of flats, into the same truck.

They're having us on, aren't they? This is all just another cunning plan to relieve Mr Joe Public of some more of his 'hard-earned'! It makes me want to vomit!

Dot dot dot, dash dash DASH !

Well, not quite yet, eh? First of all, I've got one or two little things to share with you, Dear Reader, and none of them are concerned with Morse Code in the slightest!

How about starting off with 'Road Safety' and 'Health and Safety at Work'?

This is Ibn Khaled El Walid Street, also wrongly called the Corniche by some people, it's the road that runs south of the Corniche El Nil and past the Sonesta, Lotus etc. As many of you will know, it's a busy road, with lots of tourist coaches flying backwards and forwards. But that's no real reason to stop car drivers leaving their charges all over the place while half of the road is blocked by lopped off palm fronds, is it?

Then there's the nutter up the palm tree:

Yes, that's a bit of old string around the tree, fastened to what looks to be a length of coco matting around his waist. That chopper looks rather fierce as well. Does he have his tree climbing certificate, I wonder? What about 'Employer Liability Insurance'?

Believe it or not; we've had two guests this past week! So I've been up with the larks, sorting out the famous 'Our Luxor' breakfasts. I'd forgotten how pleasant it can be in the early mornings; watching the balloons floating about as I clean all the surfaces and try to keep out of Freda's way as she sets the tables with all the delights.

While the sun comes up, the light seems to be different, as do the colours (even to someone as colour-blind as me! What do you think of the colour of the mountains here:

I'm sure they aren't usually that colour.

As I was on the way out the other day, shopping for the guest's breakfast, I think, old Mr Mohammed stopped me. "Ah, Mr Edward, see, see all the men from the Engineers Department of the Council? They are here about your neighbours, they're building another floor without permission! Perhaps these men will make them tear it down again?" (His old voice sounded full of mischievous glee.) Of course I knew that they were building; last week they put in two flights of stairs leading onto the roof, and cleared all the rubbish which they'd spent years collecting. After craning tons of sand and cement and a load of bricks up onto the roof over the past few days, that morning they had started laying bricks around the perimeter.

When I got back, the engineers pick-up trucks were gone, so I imagined that they had stopped the work until the permissions were sorted out. Silly boy!!!! They must have been paid off, as this was the view when I had mounted the stairs:

Yes, still bricklaying! Today, two days later, they've been soaking the new walls with water from a hosepipe. Both on the inside and the outside, what's all that about then? They're up to about hip height, and all the way around. But the actual building work seems to have stopped now. All the bricks and sand and cement have been used, so we'll just have to bide our time and wait and see?

To get back to the post's title, we're going to have to DASH around for the next few days; getting everything cleaned again and then put away till next year. Why? Because we're going to our other home on Monday! For Christmas! Six whole weeks with our family!

Because we won't be having much in the way of Egyptian food over that time, we decided to have some falafel for our supper tonight. Seeing as the new potatoes are out here, we thought that we'd try them with the falafel and fried aubergine.  What do you think? Will they go well together?

Yes, they did! The potatoes were lovely, with a few knobs of butter to make taking the anti-cholesterol tablets worthwhile, and a bit salt to justify the ones I have to take to keep my blood pressure somewhere near normal. The falafel was from our mate Osman, of course, and was up to his usual standard.

Well it's coming up to hot-chocolate time, I think. So I'll wish you a good night, with God's blessings! TTFN.

Tap Tap Tap Taaaap Taaaap Taaaap Tap Tap Tap

Who knows Morse Code in these superfast digital times? Not many, I'll warrant! OK, who can even have a guess at what the title is on about?

Yes, Smythe-Harrington Minor, it is the SOS or 'Save Our Souls' as some would have it. It's the internationally recognised distress signal. If you remember; it's what Peter Ustinov's Hercule Poirot tap tap tapped on the bathroom wall when he was confronted by the serpent aboard the Nile steamer 'Karnak', in that fabulous film of Agatha Christie's 'Death on the Nile'. (To say that it's one of my favourites would be something of an understatement.)

But, what else?

It's certainly nothing to do with the policeman in that dreadful TV series set amid the 'Dreaming Spires' of the old university city of Oxford; Detective Inspector Endeavour Morse! I could never be bothered with that, although Freda used to enjoy it.

No, I was really just trying to get across to you, Dear Reader, something of the depth of the frustration engendered in us by the number of taps, and the number of tap shops, we searched through while trying to find one suitable for our new handbasin. (And which didn't cost more than the rest of our guest apartment in its entirety!!!!!) You've no idea of 'heartache' or of 'losing the will to live' (or of having an aching bottom from travelling over Luxor's hundreds of speed-humps on a caleche) until you've spent four or five evenings searching this town for the 'right' tap! I'm not sure about Freda, but I was actually dreaming about taps, they were either beckoning me forwards to forbidden delights or coming screaming at me with gnashing teeth where the stream of water should have been! (Remember the 1995 movie; 'The Langoliers' anyone?)

Eventually, we came across a shop which we had never seen before, and after traipsing all around Luxor and Karnak etc, would you Adam and Eve it, it was only about 500 metres from the very first shop we'd looked in; Ahmed Hashem's. There it was, staring right at us! The shop man had to take it off the display, as the only other one in stock was the wrong colour.

It only remained now to find some sort of 'counter' (there's that blinkin' word again!!!) on which to mount the new handbasin, along with it's shiny new tap, of course. We'd seen one or two 'ready-made' offerings on our wanderings during the previous few weeks, but nothing which was either the right size, colour or within our much depleted and ever-shrinking budget! "I'm sure you could knock something up, if you really tried". (I heard the words before she even thought of them!!!! It's taken me over 40 years to develop this level of 'second sight'.) "On your bike, Missy" I thought, "I've slid down this bannister before!"

I made a detailed, three dimensional, drawing of what I thought was wanted, and took myself, and it, off to the little carpenter's shop on Youseff Hassan Street "Shop local!", I thought. After about 10 minutes of trying my best to communicate with these 'beings from outer space' (well, they might as well have been, I mean, you show a tradesman a simple drawing of an article in the medium in which he works; you shouldn't need many actual words should you?) I gave up! I went back when I managed to collar my Egyptian (English speaking tour leader) mate to interpret for us. It transpired that neither the local carpenter, nor any of his men could work from drawings????????????????

Now you might remember Taha, the carpenter from Karnak who so tragically drowned in the Red Sea? Then his younger brother Abdu, who took over the business, and whom I fell out with over an outrageous price he gave me for extending the roof terrace canopy? Well, I didn't really want to go 'cap-in-hand' to him again, did I? 

I had a nose down to the furniture manufacturer at the Sharia Karnak end of the street where Alfred the ham man is. I dealt with him via Mustafa the A/C man, when he cobbled up the wooden frame for the first hole-in-the-wall air-conditioner unit. "No problem, Mr Edward; in zan wood?" Now, I know that zan wood is very expensive, 'cause it's hard and close grained, "No no, " says I "just cheap rubbish!" He wouldn't have it, he'd only do it in zan, and there would never be any comeback simply because of the good quality of the timber.

Next, I was on the verge of buying the wood and tackling it myself! Horror of horrors!!!! So it was a trip to Zawaggy, to see young Mina, the timber merchant's son. I was dreading this; it meant selecting and buying the wood, then taking it to some woodworking shop to have it all machined to size, and all that before I even got it home where I could make my skew-whiff cuts! (Colloquialism: Skew-whiff = off centre, out of true or out of line)

The wood was going to cost 220le, and I just thought that I'd quiz Mina about someone to make it up for me; nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh? "I'll do it for you Mr Edward" For a minute, I thought we were 'cooking on gas', but then he figured out the price! It was less than half of the price of one made in zan wood, but still almost twice as much as I had calculated to be a reasonable price. Dejection set in!

Abdu seemed genuinely pleased to hear my voice on the phone! What a surprise. I had just about expected him to hang up on me, to be perfectly honest. Never mind, to cut a long story short, we agreed the price with very little haggling, and he promised to deliver it on a certain day, and everything went (almost) to plan. The only problem was that Freda HATED it! As you can imagine, I was a bit 'put-out' to say the least. Back it went to a rather non-plussed Abdu, for some slight modifications and a complete colour change! Eventually, it passed muster and I was allowed to get on with fitting it all together. Thank heaven for silicone, to stop those fiddly little leaks here and there.

Well, here it is, in all its glory, I'm sorry that it's not well photographed, but it's quite difficult for a fat lad to get a decent picture while he's squashed into a corner!

No, the inside isn't really yellow, it's just a trick of the camera or the colour-blind cameraman!

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

That was Daphne Oxenford's catchphrase on 'Listen With Mother' many years ago. The next time I heard of her was when she played the village postmistress in 'To the Manor Born', alongside the incomparable Penelope Keith and the very dashing Peter Bowles. I'll bet she could relate an interesting saga or two.

That's what we in the literary business call 'a clue'! And here's another:

And yet another!!!!!

Yes, Dear Reader, it's the 'Saga of the Guest Bathroom'!

It started when we had no guests, and nothing to do except annoy each other because we were getting bored. Freda is an artist when it comes to gentle persuasion, and, like all dutiful husbands, I've fallen for it for the past 40 years. First it was 'just' the tiles behind the sink in the kitchen, then it was the sink itself, and then............well, you know the rest.

Now then, I've had my own plans for the bathroom in the guest apartment for quite some time. But I don't insist on having my own way, as it tends to generally upset the apple cart.  Shwy-er shwy-er (slowly slowly, or softly softly) as the Egyptians would say. I'm not quite as daft as I look, you know, or as green as I'm cabbage-looking!

So, what do you think of these two pictures of our guest bathroom? It has certainly served its purpose over the past 6 years, it's relatively user friendly with its pedestal handbasin and mirror, it even has a little shelf for bits and bobs. But no 'wow' factor, something is missing!

After consulting her interior design books and winding up her interior designer's brain, Freda decided that the pedestal handbasin was ugly and 'old hat', and it had to go to be replaced by a modern, eye-catching 'something'. Eventually, the something was revealed as a 'counter-top' handbasin. (How I hate that expression 'counter-top', it's as if you were going to have your handbasin, which in our case is next to the toilet, on public display in a shop. After all, that's where you'd find a 'counter', is it not? A surface onto which you would 'count' a customer's money, or change, when selling something? Stupidity, I say!)

The hunt was on! As Luxor slowly modernises, there are more shops selling the necessities which are needed to provide pleasant accommodations for modern living. Ahmed Hashem is no longer the only worthwhile bathroom shop in town, although that is where we started to look. There was one handbasin there which caught my eye as soon as I saw it. It was square, and tapered towards the bottom, it just shouted "Buy me!". But, never mind, we all know that Freda will not be rushed in to anything, shwy-er shwy-er, steady as she goes!

Actually, this whole operation has taken so long that I cannot reliably recall the exact sequence of events any more! Suffice it to say that after visiting all the other bathroom shops in Luxor, we eventually plumped for this square 'Ideal Standard' handbasin, even though it cost a small fortune. Mr Ahmed wanted me to take the one from the shop, assuring me that it would prove to be very difficult to obtain another. But I didn't want my guests to be confronted with a lovely new, and expensive, square handbasin which had black marks around the top edge, funnily enough! After much cajoling, he promised to order another from Cairo, al hamdulillah! (thanks be to God).

It would be delivered on the following Monday, insh'Allah, (God willing.) I arranged transport and toodled off to the shop, money in hand. Mr Ahmed was just going out the door, "Ah, Mr Edward, I'm just going to pray. I'll only be five minutes." How dare he tell such a bare-faced lie about praying? It's beyond me, but I waited anyway. He returned after about 20 minutes. "I've come for the sink," says I. "Oh, it didn't arrive yet Mr Edward, the truck broke down at Minya, perhaps tomorrow, or after tomorrow?" Why on earth couldn't he have said that before he made me wait while he went to pray??????

A similar sequence of events, with only slight differences, occurred several more times, and each time he tried to persuade me to take the display model from the shop; yes, he knew it was marked, but he'd give me a good discount! (????) I stopped actually going to the shop, telephoning him on his mobile instead. At last, his answer was that it had arrived and was waiting for me to collect it! I was there like a shot, but he wasn't, and no-one else knew anything about it. I didn't know whether to be deflated or enraged! Finally, I decided to search the shop myself, and found it. It was lying on the floor, and the top edge was covered in 'Ideal Standard' tape. "It's the same one," I thought, "and that thieving little swine has just stuck this tape over the top of the damage!!!!!" I was livid! I've no idea what the bathroom and tile seeking Egyptian families thought of this little, fat and red-faced, Ingleesi as he sat on the floor in the middle of the shop picking away at the super strong Sellotape on a handbasin.

By the time Mr Ahmed returned, I'd got all the tape off, and realised that it hadn't been another of his tricks, but that the tape had been put on at the factory to protect the edge while it was being transported. Deflated, this time, I think!

So, that was a major advance, next we would need a tall tap (faucet). Mr Ahmed had just the one! As he is the main agent for Ideal Standard, that was the manufacturer, and it was only 3889le, how spiffing, 400 nicker for a tap? The man is certifiable!

If you're like me, than you won't be 'sitting comfortably' any more. My bottom is aching, along with my bad knee, so I'm giving up for tonight.

Look out for the next instalment, where (among other eye-popping revelations) Freda wants to kill the carpenter!!!!