Susie and John are taking the train to Dorking. They are so excited they drink all the way to Gatwick, buy some more booze in the Airport and fall on to the Dorking train. Their good friend Richard picks them up off the pavement outside the station.
"Gosh" says Richard, "It's jolly good to see you. We're ever so excited to be going on holiday with you to Egypt. The lure of the ancient orient and all that !"
"Get a life and get these bagsh in the boot!" slurs Sue, who has been momentarily affected by the seven gins on the train.
Back at Richard and Jan's house their dog, Arkle, is really pleased to see everyone and jumps up with glee, banging his testicles on John's boot by mistake. He goes and lies down on his bed.
"That bloody hurt!"
Richard and John are so excited they stay up until four in the morning talking through the trip. The thought of deserts makes them very thirsty so they drink a bottle of brown cordial from the cupboard with some soda water. It is very nice, but keeps them awake. The girls crept off to bed at midnight, so the boys talk about `laddish' things which will remain a secret for ever, because when they wake up they have forgotten everything. Friday the 14th
John and Richard are very quiet going to the airport.
Susie is angry because John said "Come on Richard, the bloody Harpies want us at the airport eight hours before the plane leaves" and did't realise Sue could hear him.
Jan is angry because she isn't travelling light, and Richard is. He has decided to leave the Egyptian pounds, guide book and Jan's sunglasses on a table. Jan is also constipated from Delhi, the Egyptians apparently have special secret remedies for this that they hide in the water and on vegetables. Susie says it is like homeopathy, a little concentrated dose of the poison can actually cure you. Susie points out the section in the guide book about human excrement in salads.
John is angry because Richard doesn't like the hat he bought for him.
"It's not a real Panama hat because you can't roll it up" explains John.
"Really", Richard says (desperately trying to look interested) "and is that a problem?"
"It will be when I stuff it up your arse" snarls John.
Richard is angry because Jan is mocking him about leaving his money behind.
Richard does remember the Bloody Marys. John uses the medicine to try and cure his headache. He does not like flying, so drinks too much and eats a Macdonald's breakfast. His stomach will knot up like gristle when they take off later.
Clear as bell over the Alps, so the avid travellers can see grubby marks on the Alps where unwashed French people had been. Mont Blanc was especially dirty. Five hours on the Monarch Airbus later and the famous four land in ...LUXOR!
"I do this for a living you know"
".. and so do I"
Richard decides to leave the hats on the plane, but he is sent back. He makes friends with a fat Egyptian chap with an American accent and a large moustache who holds his hand and keeps shouting `Richard' every five minutes. The four get their visas and are shepherded onto the boat which will be their home for the next seven nights.
The luxurious Nile cruisers berth up four or five abreast. To get to 'Florence' they pass through the saloons of two other ships, each with gleaming paintwork, brass fittings and chandeliers.
Posh or what ?
They are shown to their cabins in the very bowels of the boat. Luckily they have the same neighbours, huge generators which rumble relentlessly, powering the air conditioning system. The cabins are grubby and dark. The view from Jan and Richard's cabin is the kitchens of the next boat. Sweaty arabs, stripped to the waist in filthy shorts hawk an spit into the food. "Lucky we don't have chefs like that on our boat" says Jan, hopefully.
The Nile at Luxor
Opposite the boat is a tourist bazaar packed with shops selling clothes, jewelry, souvenirs, spices and films. Worthy oriental gentlemen (wogs) scuttle from their shops crying "Hallo! Francais, Ingleesi?" Beggars thrust hands out, there is a national shortage of some stuff called "Baksheesh". Everyone tries to catch their attention, and they discover eye contact is fatal. "La-a- shockran" (no thank you) is the stock phrase, but John is adding a few words learnt in the back seat of Beirut taxis. Janet buys a beautiful white and yellow gold ring from a fat jeweller. He promises a surprise when they return to collect it. There is one, the ring was actually ready.
Sue rings the kids. Richard gets tonic water and soda. John buys some nuts.
Stella beer, gin and whiskey further tire our heroes who head for bed at 11pm. The hammering of generators lulls them to sleep and no one complains about snoring. It is drowned out by the noise.
(Saturday) After a long wait in reception, their guide eventually surfaced from her cabin. She claimed she hadn't been called, but Jan mischievously suggested she might have been guiding another guide to quite a different location. Their guide is quite pretty, with bright red lipstick and soft mahogany eyes bridged with black brows exaggerated with kohl liner. Her apparel would be more suited to winter in Eurodisney. Heavy trousers, jumper and gaudy anorak. Her accessories include a bright yellow duck's head umbrella with enormous eyes and red beak brim. The knapsack continues the yellow theme and has two battered dolls bound on with string. The glue securing hair to pate of one dolls has long worn away. John thinks it makes the doll look like some strange Egyptian fetish of Sir Bobby Charlton as it bobs and flops in her tow.
"What is your names?" she'd asked the group the previous evening.
"Good", once the responses were complete, "mine's Abir". Richard and John automatically order a Stella. Disgorged from the bus into the dust bowl which is the Karnak coach park, the four tourists gape in amazement at scale of the monumental ruin. Abir had boasted earlier about the first pylon.
"It measures over 24 meters in height" she'd stated. Richard, had whispered to Jan "I say, why would the Ancient Egyptians want pylons when they hadn't invented electricity. Jolly mysterious or what?"
Obelisk, but no Asterix at Karnak
The great entrance pylon of Karnak tower over the grubby restaurants and film shops which fringe the site. A river of gaily dressed sightseers animates the brown and khaki ruin-scape flowing into the entrance between banks of impressive stone rams.
"You could jolly well fit ten cathedrals into this site" says John, who has been reading the guide book again.
Abir guides the group through the site. The great obelisk and plinth where its twin once stood before it was swapped for a clock which never worked. This established the ethos of the modern Egyptian economy which is now wholly based on shoddy goods and dodgy deals.
The four dutifully take photographs, pay a guard baksheesh to be shown into a restricted area. No one joins the giggling Japs making circuits around the statue of a giant scarab.
"Now we go back to boat via the Perfume factory. Why? Eet is factory so you get a good price" Abir explains.
In a shop that looks like a Turkish hooker's boudoir, the group is invited to sample various essences, administered to the wrist.
"I can't smell anything" announces fat Hettie, waving an arm, which bears an uncanny resemblance to an uncooked leg of pork, at the unctuous salesman.
"Probably drowned out by chip fat and chocolate" mutters Richard. The Arab, however, treats Hettie with respect and decorum.
"Maybe he's worried she hasn't had lunch yet", says John.
"I'll have six of these, four of those and eight
of them. What do you think Brunhilda?"
"Now, for the ladies", the oleaginous sales man leers "Here we have the base for Chanel No 5. All you need ees three drops, here, here and here." Indicating his chest and groin. "Then your husband, he weel be like a stallion. Five hours. Guaranteed!"
His leer is only surpassed by Carl, the crude cretin from Crowborough, who lives his life in a Carry On film.
"I say!" exclaims Richard, shocked to the core "I shouldn't want to look like one of their stallions. They look ready for the knackers yard, what!"
Jan gives him a cool look. "Give me a large bottle of that one" she says. Carl looks on like a dog at the prospect of a biscuit.
Sue checks her feet to ensure she has her buying boots on and springs into financial action. Abir mentally computes her commission.
"Hettie is very conscious about her weight" Jan says back on the boat, in a concerned and caring way (which really means she isn't and doesn't).
"Well so are we" exclaims Richard, "have you seen the way this boat leans when she moves around! They had to move our table to the centre of the saloon so they can serve soup".
At the main briefing after lunch Abir tells everyone not to brush their teeth with ship water.
"Too late for us" sighs Janet, looking hopefully into the distance as though she can see a relieving dose of the shits appearing from the desert.
"There isn't a restaurant in business which could fill me up" said Hettie.
"Luxor Temple, home of Isis, the wife of Amun. He resided in Karnak and she only saw him once a year when she was borne down the Nile in a sacred barge to Karnak" says John who has been reading the guide book again.
"Poor old Isis" says Sue ruefully, "only comes once a year and that's in a boat full of strangers". She gives John a pointed look.
Neither as large or as well preserved as Karnak, its proximity to the town and the Nile, the flowers and oleander do, however, give a pleasing feminine aura. There is an avenue of sphinxes instead of rams leading to main pylon. The missing obelisk of the pair was been pinched by the British, and now sits on the chilly embankment of the Thames as Cleopatra's Needle.
As the sun begins to set, a procession of strange people appear from the North, advancing down the avenue bearing flowers and expressions of self-conscious adoration.
"Really" says Sue, "What must the natives make of this nonsense, I positively shudder to think. Now come along John, and don't dawdle boy. It's time we were back at the boat". This means John and Sue are tagged to the back of the procession, earning them glances from onlookers, normally reserved for the inmates of lunatic asylums tucking into a pile of shit.
Its been a long first day, so after the Son et Lumiere at Karnak, a late dinner and some drinks, it's off to beddy-byes.
(Sunday) Up at 6:30 am for breakfast at 7:00 and a brief stroll down the river in pursuit of the duck on a stick brought our heroes the ferry quay for the West Bank. "The living reside on the East where the sun rises, representing birth. The dead are buried in the West in the setting sun, symbolising the end of life" said John, who had been reading his book again. The early start gets to Sue who announces on the ferry she is not feeling well at all. Bags are rummaged and some Arrete appears. It is French for 'stop', but no one knows if the Egyptian bugs will understand this. The 'Sky Tours' group has been renamed "Mish Mish" by Abir. She says it means Apricot. It really means "No no", and is the height of Egyptian wit.
The bus stops for a photo opportunity at the Colossi of Memnon Coke is bought for Sue and the other three keep a wary eye on her.
"If she has to sneak into the bushes we could witness not only the birth of a new tourist attraction, but also something which could cast the colossi into the shade (at least for part of the day)" says John. He is allowed to be a little heartless because he and Sue have been married so long. Sue doesn't think so, but is too sick to argue, which is what John has been banking on.
Back on the bus and Janet gives Sue one of the headrest covers in case of emergency. An open window and a passing cyclist is the preferred option of Richard and John. "Sod this for a lark" says Jan
The Valley of the Kings is a barren moonscape of cliffs, rocks and rubble cut through with dusty walkways hedged by low walls. Hundreds of tourists trudge in the blinding sunshine and heat, fired by the prospect of cool dark tombs filled with marvelous funerary reliefs. All of this will come to pass, except for the cool bit. The heat and humidity underground are sufficiently oppressive to ensure constant hurried exits by even the mildest of claustrophobics who stand blinking, pale faced, anxious and alone at the entrance to the most popular tombs. Jan exits like a greyhound on amphetamines from the first tomb and joins the no go group in the sunlight
Down in the dark grave of
Rameses III the wall paintings look as fresh as the day they
were applied.
"They record the objects and deeds necessary to ensure the Pharaoh can pass into the afterlife. The sacred boat to carry his soul, the incantations and offerings to the gods to defeat the monsters which would drag him down and eat his soul; the food and servants to sustain him." said John, who'd been reading his book again.
"Look, there's Arkle!" exclaimed Richard, pointing at what was obviously a rendering of Anubis god of the underworld.
"Bollocks!" said John. "Can't be, look, he hasn't got any", indicating the neutered area.
Arkle in Egypt
The lights flickered, a strange sound murmured softly, then an awful stench began to fill the tomb.
"It is said the unguents and materials used in the tomb decompose and form a poisonous gas" said Abir, catching a whiff.
"Excuse me", said Sue, hurrying towards the exit.
"Sod this for a lark!"
Richard and John choose to visit the tomb of Tutmosis III, hidden away high on a cliff in a ravine, only accessible via a steep steel stairway. Once inside, the heat and confined spaces seemed to press down like and overfamiliar Arab in a sauna. Just the entrance entailed a deal of ladder-limbo dancing beneath precarious overhangs of friable rock.
Deep inside, the oppressive heat, gloom and total lack of ventilation ensured everyone was sweating like mules. The guard, warmly dressed in a woolly galabaya, scarf and turban, looked appropriately pissed off on having drawn an eight hour shift in this hell-hole.
"Parp, Poop, Poop!"
"Video, video" he cried at John, indicating to his digital camera.
"Camera, camera" John responded, knowing videos are banned.
"Give me, give me!" shouted the guard.
"Sod off, sod off" replied John, mindful to maintain the dualistic nature of this conversation. Richard and John gladly escape and rejoin the girls who've chosen to view a mummy instead.
"Mummy ? Is that you in there ?"
"Did you know" asks John to no one in particular "that mummy is the old Persian word for bitumen. In the olden days it was used to seal wounds. Being in short supply, a well thought of substitute was the ground up preserved bodies of dead Egyptians. Hence the name - Mummy".
"Is that near the end of your book?" asked Richard.
"Yes" confirmed John.
"Thank God!" say Sue and Jan.
After a long wait in the sun for the bus, the party embarked for their next destination, the Alabaster factory to the accompaniment of Abir roundly cursing the tardy driver. It passes the villa of Howard Carter who subsequently won fame and recognition as first mate on the becalmed "Good Ship Venus".
"This scarab, eet is the Egyptian symbol of good luck and health" explained the tall and swarthy proprietor.
"Not so lucky if you have to make them" thought John, looking at the wogs sweating in the white stone dust with their primitive tools turning out jars and ornaments.
"They're awfully dishy, those tall natives in the shop" simpered Sue and Jan.
"Abir must think so too because she's left us in a hot bus at the mercy of begging children" moaned Richard
"They're probably so pleased with the number of presents we bought, that they've decided to give Abir one", mused John.
Cut like colonnaded steps into a mountainside stands Queen Hatshepsuts mortuary temple. John, who'd been reading the guide book again, explained.
"She was a powerful queen who ruled for many years, only to be succeeded by her stepson who could not stand her. To ensure she was accepted as a full male and Pharaoh, she wore men's clothes and had a beard, a bit like some of your pals at Brighton, Sue. She is famous for the trading mission she ordered to the Yemen for wood, spices and ivory. Let me translate the hieroglyphics for you..
'An expedition for faraway Punt
Has Hatshepsut stood at the front.
Said a lowly nomarch
Tis strange our monarch
Has, is, and looks like a ..'
That last bit is damaged and I can't make it out" he apologised.
On to the disturbingly named Valley of the Queens. The top tomb of Queen Nefertari, spouse of Rameses II is both expensive and limited to 150 posh visitors per day. Just as good, apparently, is the tomb of Amenophis, a young prince who snuffed it from some adolescent affliction. His mother was so distraught at his death, she aborted the child she was carrying. They then had the fetus mummified and buried it in the entrance to the tomb.
"Nice touch, Rameses", says Richard.
Ancient Tomb Painting Depicting Queue at
the Vet's
There is a long wait in the blazing sun by the entrance. Soon the cursed, poisonous tomb fumes are in evidence again, so the English shift quietly upwind of the French.
To while away the time, the four pop into a nearby tomb.
"The guard says this is the tomb of Queen Jig-a-Jig" says John, nervously.
"Yes. Jig-a-jig. Jig-a-jig", agrees the guard, clutching John's hand and dragging him into the depths of the tomb. He manages to distract the guard with some baksheesh, freeing his hand to point at Jan and say "Sister. Sister." The guard scuttles off
New Room - New Room Mate
Back to the boat and the four are moved to new rooms.
"We are sailing at 7:00pm, so they must be worried the noise and vibration will keep us awake" says John, who has been reading the notice board again. Richard and John go shopping in Luxor for pistachio nuts, gin and tonic. After a nightmare journey down the crowded, stinking, rotting, fly-blown back streets of Luxor, Richard (who has traveled the world) shudders "There's worse. Not many and not by much, but there's worse"
John thinks there isn't, but is impressed with Richard's role as the Pied-Piper of Luxor. Even the crippled child manages to keep up, though John does unsportingly sweep away one his sticks whilst aiming a kick at a persistent snotty-nosed specimen in the early stages of leprosy.
Once the Florence sets sail Jan, being of a nautical bent, stays up all night to ensure everything is shipshape and Bristol fashion.
"OK, you lot go to sleep and I'll look after things"
The morning of Monday brings Esna locks and an almighty argument. The boat following Florence (SS Zeberdee?) jumps the queue. A common feat and one which Florence will repeat on the way back. Seemingly scores of cruise ships are moored either side of the barrage, and each transit is held up for at least half an hour extra so the wogs can wave their guns, charge about the quay and have their friends restrain them.
Having safely established the following captain's parentage and his mother's occupation, both boats sail onto the riverside scab that is the town of Edfu.
Shaking off the last of Edfu's
Street Traders
"Today we ride in the caleche to the temple. The driver will wait, so you must remember your number" Abir explains. The dusty quay is a chaos of half starved horses, gaily painted carriages, screaming drivers and cracking whips all jockeying for the tourist dollar.
The four board what seems to be a caleche pulled by a horse which might not expire on the one mile ride to the temple.
"Tell him not to whip it so much, and SLOW DOWN" wails horse-lover Jan. John looks up "Faster you bastard, and give that nag some stick" in his phrase book.
"The Ptolomeic temple of Horus at Edfu is the most complete of its kind. It lay in the centre of the town, and was completely buried. Once the overlying houses and several feet of horse dung were removed, the Temple was excavated intact." says John, who had been reading his guide book again.
"Having been built by the Greeks, isn't it apt the approach is now from the rear?" mused Jan.
Dark, forbidding, crowded and spooky, Richard managed a bad attack of claustrophobia and scrambled out into the sun, feeling like the hawk annually imprisoned here at the height of the cult.
"Only fatter and slower" said Janet unkindly.
Some old bloke collapses in the crowd, causing the Japs to cluster around shoot off yet another roll of film.
The treat yet to come is running the Galabaya gauntlet. Frantic stallholders snatch at bewildered tourists and drag them kicking and protesting into their lairs. Meanwhile, caleches jostle in the dust with trucks and cars trying to claim another tourist scalp.
John haggles with a jolly young chap and purchases a nifty black two-piece. Jan is following another agenda.
"Na - not gaudy enough" she says, working through a collection of Arabic evening wear which could bring pigs into labour. "Yes, this one. How much?" she cries triumphantly, holding up a bad genetic experiment involving fluorescent cotton, sequins, a blind embroiderer and sick dog. She'll knock them dead tonight, thinks Richard - or at least cripple the less sensitive. Florence leaves four hours late for Kom Ombo. "Someone has been lost" explains John who has been talking to the concierge again.
For the Egyptian party that night, Richard and John deck themselves in black and blue galabayas. John has overlooked the fact his outfit lacks pockets, so he uses two scarves to erect a huge turban. The fags and lighter go inside.
Abdul Ali's Arse Scratch
Someone, asks them "Armani?"
"Omani Hamsalad" Richard replies.
Sue and Jan are made up by the cabin boys whilst Richard and John attend a strange crew presentation ritual in the lounge. When the girls appear, the staff positively drool. The little fat guide with a sonic hammer breaks into a sweat.
Fatima on a Gin Break
"I say" says Janet, swirling her scarf modestly across her face, "the wogs are definitely gagging for it"
"Must be these black lines down our chins" says Sue. "It looks like we've been eating charcoal"
"I'm staying here until you get those wogs
away from the door"
The restaurant lays on a beautiful spread of Egyptian dishes.
"Almost worth having to wear a dress for" says Richard, swishing the hem of his galabaya over his toes and idly swaying as he queued for seconds. The watching chef made a mental note to give him a large portion later.
Tuesday morning finds the Florence moored by the Temple of Kom Ombo. Sat on a high bank, its dark bulk scowls down at the Nile for carrying away half of it in flood.
Kom Ombo
Abir leads the sleepy group through the entrance for a pre- breakfast tour..
"This temple, it is dedicated to two gods; the god of the sky, Horus, and Sobek - the crocodile. Why we know this? Look and you will see there is double everything, entrances, halls, sanctuaries" she explains.
The group files in to see some mummified crocodiles in an adjoining building, which gives sleazy Carl the chance to say "Three mummified crocodiles to go, and make them snappy" "I bet that joke is older than the crocs" sighs Richard.
John catches up with the group, "Hey, three mummified crocodiles please, and make them snappy" he says and wonders why he just gets pained looks.
Abir spends a long time explaining the way the ancient Egyptian calendar works and hieroglyphs which demonstrate the prowess of the ancient doctors.
"The purpose of the Nilometer" said John, who had been reading his book again, "is to measure the height of the annual flood. The higher the water, the greater the taxes levied on the farmers". The group looks hopefully into what appears to be a well with a spiral staircase set round the side.
Jan surfaces for breakfast and so misses the temple, but not Elaine's hurried departure from the table.
"I hope it wasn't the smell of my food" says John, looking up from a tangled mess of spicy sausages, hard-boiled eggs and fried bread.
The Florence casts off and begins her slow meander up the Nile to Aswan. "The desert is much closer to the river now" observes Sue on one of her rare excursions from the supine position on the sun deck.
"Grnhh, mmmm" grunt Jan and Richard, doing their extended impressions of slabs of oiled meat in a brightly lit butcher's window.
John is in his cabin, reading the guide book on Aswan.
"Nilewatch"
Not only is the Nile shallower here, but also it is becoming cleaner and clearer. The Florence weaves in convoy past feluccas, picking her way through shallows and sandbanks, with the faded custard desert a striking contrast to the dark blue water. During lunch the boat stops dead in the water.
"We're aground," announces John, who knows these nautical things "but it isn't really a problem. We only draw 1.5 metres, so we could float in the depth of the swimming pool on the top deck. Instead of propellers there are two caterpillars, rather like a squashed paddle wheels which can't be damaged or choked by weeds easily. Finally, since we are going upstream, the current will wash us off the bank." And it did.
The Florence does make it to Aswan and "Mish Mish" take a minibus trip to the unfinished obelisk via the Muslim graveyards. "Dead centre of Aswan I'd say" observes John.
Abir is running short of commission, so the group is taken to a papyrus factory before a continuing on to the high dam. Jan and Richard buy paintings of Anubis, the Jackal god of embalming. They think it looks like their dog, Arkle. John makes a tasteless comment about middle aged women, Anubis and make-up.
After the boring High Dam - which is really just a big wall across the Nile, with a lot of water backed up on one side, the group are placed on a small motor boat and ferried to Philae Temple. "Another temple" cried Richard in relief "I was starting to have withdrawal symptoms"
"With the construction of the British (low) and then the Russian (high) dams, many ancient sites in the upper Nile were threatened. About 14 of these were relocated to higher ground to escape flooding. Philae temple was already awash, so a coffer dam was built and a nearby island landscaped like the original. The whole temple, and the kiosk of Trajan were then moved to the new site" said John, who had been reading the guide book again.
"Really" said Jan and Sue, who were busy avoiding getting wet whilst bartering with the Nubian first mate over some jewelry.
The temple itself was built to honour the mother God Isis, thought to be the predecessor to the Marianic cult of the Catholic church. It was so popular that past zealots have, as is the case in many of the temples, disfigured the reliefs in the hope of reducing their religious attraction.
"Abir says it was the early Christians who vandalised the images" said Sue.
"Yeah?" answered John "Go and look in the mosques, and tell me if you can find figurative art there. You can't, because Mohammed said it was blasphemous. He took his cue from Moses and the ten commandments 'Thou shalt not worship graven images'. If you go around the Arab world its always the same, faces are smashed. The puritans did it in the cathedrals of Britain as well, so the answer is Religious nutcases did it"
After the trip the four go shopping in the tourist stalls. The shopkeepers go into shock as John actually buys something. "Two packets of tea for my boy James and me!" he triumphs.
Later that evening the four re-enact "Nightmare on Bank Street" as they try to draw money on Sue's credit card. The supporting parts are played by stunningly inept Clerks with a minimal grasp of English.
Sue cunningly adds to their confusion by asking "A hundred English pounds in Egyptian dollars", thus mixing three currencies into one request. Richard and John go onto the street and kick trees.
John stuns the souk at Aswan by buying a hookah pipe for James.
"We can smoke it while we're drinking the tea" he explains.
(Wednesday) "It is 4am and we are in a coach full of Frogs in the middle of the bloody desert" wails Richard in the back of the coach, "I hope this is going to be worth it".
John is stretched out across the back seat and keeping very quiet. He is not feeling very well and knows there are few bushes for the having a dump behind in the great sand sea. He took Immodium the night before, and wonders if he should have invested in a champagne cork as well. It is a three hour trip to the temples of Rameses II and his Queen Nefertari on the edge of the dam.
The coach stops so the group can watch the desert sunrise. Jan, Richard and John light freezing cigarettes to the early morning sounds of "Zut alors, Mon Dieu" and "Parp parp". Five miles downwind a herd camels are decimated. John doesn't join in, he doesn't dare.
Once into the site, the flyblown, shit-encrusted toilets prove too much of a magnet for the English, so the whole group is made to wait idly in the early sun whilst the pioneers disappear below ground into the packed toilets.
"It is mayhem down there" says an ashen faced John, resolving to leave his calling card behind a rock if necessary, rather than mill with green faced people hopping around strange yogic positions.
The temples themselves are spectacular, and the group has a new guide, infinitely more animated, enthusiastic and informed than Abir.
"Let us wait here a moment" he says, halting the group just out of sight of the temples. "Now, when you come around this corner, you are going to see something special. Something you have never seen before, or will ever see again. Prepare yourselves".
And he was right.
Built by Rameses II at the limit of Upper Egypt's domain, they are carved into solid rock as a monument and warning to those entering the empire from the South. For one day only in November and February, the rising sun penetrates 50 yards into the sanctuary and illuminates three of the four statues. The fourth, Ptah - god of darkness, always remains in the shade.
"No flash" the guards are constantly shouting at the oblivious Frogs, as they charge up their cameras for another. It seems only the English and Japanese behave with any decorum. The French happily continue to bleach the rich paintwork with powerful blasts of light from their cameras.
Back on the bus for another three hour ride for our heroes. There is a break halfway to view a mirage in the desert.
"Can you get us a little closer?" John asks the guide.
The group return safely to Florence and a late lunch and reunion with Abir.
"At 3pm we will take a boat to Kitchener's Island. The people riding camels to the Nubian village we will drop of afterwards. The rest will go there by motorboat. We will visit inside a traditional Nubian house and we can take photographs" she explains.
The island turns out to be the highlight of Aswan, cool and green, overflowing with plants and trees from all over the world.
Jan and Sue take one look at the camels and head back to the boat. The camels take one look at Sue and Jan and head for the hills.
"They're all scrawny and in terrible condition" complains Jan, who has become the resident camel expert. "They'd never be able to carry us over that hill". The camels, now quaking behind rocks and dunes, nod in feverish agreement.
As the group approaches the village there is a big muscular camel in fine condition resting by the path.
"Now that's what I call a camel!" says Jan. "Climb on Sue and we'll get a picture of you". The owner agrees and leads Sue towards the beast. It takes one look, does a quick weight estimate, and throws a fit; snarling, spitting and wriggling.
Sue chickens out for the second time in less than an hour.
The group is herded through the village and into some unfortunate family's house.
"Not much call for lawnmower salesmen here" observes John. Dust courtyard, dust floor, dust driveway, dust air and dust children demanding baksheesh at every step.
"The Nubian men are jolly tall, dark and handsome" say the girls on the way back.
"You should have asked them if you could run your fingers through their Nubic hair" says Richard, "You never know, they might have obliged".
Richard and John embark on a mercy mission to the duty free shop to buy essential gin supplies. The shop is closed but they do manage a beer in the bar of the Old Cataract Hotel.
"My late father was a surgeon here in the war" said Richard, "and I'm probably sitting in the same place, doing the same thing as he did over 50 years ago"
"What, trying to get gin for your mother?" asked John.
Leaving the hotel, John was able to raise his arm and snap his fingers, which brought their faithful taxi driver, Rafeed, rattling up to the portico.
"I just love doing that" said John, breathing in the last of the tradition and colonial world charm that seeps from every brick of the famous old hotel.
Back on the Florence the four managed to avoid the belly dancer and stagger to bed.
(Thursday) "Isn't this wonderful, just lolling about on deck in the sunshine, having a dip in the pool, with nothing to do but relax" said Sue.
"Grnn Mmmph" agreed Jan and Richard.
"I'm bored" said John, hiding from the sun in his big hat.
"Go read your bloody book" said Sue.
A Room With a View
Pimms at sundown followed by the standard screaming quarrel with the lock keepers at Esna. This time it was enlivened by men with guns coming aboard (which caused the crew to vanish), the management team from Florence all lined up on the quay and lots of shouting.
"What are they going to do?" asked Jan.
"Shoot them?" suggested John hopefully, with a fresh roll of film at the ready.
(Friday) John and Richard check the Bar bill which comes out at around £10 per person per day. John makes Sue angry by faultlessly withdrawing money from the bank.
John and Richard visit the Luxor Museum whilst the girls engage in a final shopping frenzy. John hasn't got his guidebook for once, so they set off in the direction of the Winter Palace, on the basis that if it was the wrong way, at least there would be a posh beer at the end of it.
It was, but they don't get the beer because a friendly coach driver intervenes with a lift back to the museum.
Early Cruise Ship c2000 BC
All too soon, time has run out for our heroes, and it is time to pack their bags and return home.
The Famous Queen Nippedhertiti
"We would like to apologise for the six hour delay to your flight on behalf of SkyTours and Monarch Airlines. By way of reparation we have arranged that you can loll about a hotel before we embark for the airport. Once there, you will be issued with a cake box containing some nasty chicken, rotting fruit and stale bread. For anyone who has NOT had the shits, please note that this is your last chance for them. Thank you, come back soon and Inshallah!!"
"Golly! You know, we might just bally-well do that" say the Famous Four.