One of these days I will get it right, call into an Internet cafe, get online and my jottings from far off places will wing their way through the wonders of the Internet and arrive safely back home in Burnley. I am determined to get this right but, to date, my record is one of frustrating hassle.

We were escaping the final throes of the English summer of 2008, which showed not a hint of being Indian, unless that includes the monsoon, and trotted off to find a reliable source of sunshine in a part of the world entirely new to me. Northern Europe generally seems to have had things pretty rough this summer and I have met folks who have been to southern France and northern Italy returning with reports of torrential rain.

At yet another cold and wet barbecue recently (why do we bother?), we decided enough is enough and agreed to join good friends and visit a place that rarely, if ever, gets any rain.

Things started off, as usual, with suitcases being dragged through puddles at Manchester Airport before going through the hassle of checking in, waiting, eating, being channelled through endless shopping experiences, the security checks and eventually boarding. There were the few moments of doubt as, belted in, we thundered down the runway, then that whoosh as we left terra firma behind and the plane gained height. We saw nothing but cloud below until we spotted the western coast of, I think, Greece below.

By that time, the serenely polite and endlessly helpful cabin crew had already offered us magazines, sweets, biscuits, tea, coffee, beer, wine, perfume, teddy bears, gift merchandise, lunch, scratchcards, time share, headphone rental for the in-flight movie and chocolate. However professional they are, not a moment is lost in tempting us to part with our hard-earned cash to buy stuff, which frankly, we just don't need, and, of course, at 35,000ft., there isn't much competition, so prices are high.

Way below, the blue sea gave way to an endless sea of arid shifting sands ... the Western desert (or Sahara). There was an hour of this and then, abruptly, a thin, fragile-looking, fertile ribbon of green. We landed on the sun-baked runway of our destination and met a wall of heat rather like an oven door opening, as we disembarked the plane and jumped into the waiting bus. We had left behind a rainy, wet Manchester, the cradle of the Industrial Revolution, and arrived at possibly the cradle of civilisation. We were in Luxor, Egypt ... by heck it were 'ot!

There was the hassle of immigration, queueing, visas, baggage collection before we were bussed to our hotel for the night. Very nice it was, too. The staff presentable and courteous. You could easily imagine British Army officers being housed here in times past. Outside, there was a culture shock. Step on the pavement and immediately you are being hassled by taxi drivers, horse and trap drivers, street sellers and beggars. It never stops. It made even the shortest walk a hassle-laden pain in the neck.

No thank you, simply is not good enough. Goods are thrust in your face wherever you go. Books, scarves, beads, bottles of water ... you name it. Stall holders in the local souks, suqs and souqs (markets) desperately try to drag you into their shops offering everything at bargain prices (about triple what they should be) and simply will not take no for an answer. The whole process is utterly counter productive as rather than browsing you tend to pass on by. I found the process both time consuming and trying. Almost intimidating.

This was a shame as I suspect the Egyptians are essentially a friendly, fun-loving people who like a joke. Bombarded with "You English, yes?", constant "Hello" (until you responded), and invitations such as "We were at same school", "Cheap as chips", "Better than Tesco", I'm afraid I sank into my "Lithuania..no English!" mode. I was grateful for the large numbers of ever present armed tourism police though I'm not sure how effective in a crisis they would be as half of them were asleep most of the time.

My friend, Norman, was made of sterner stuff. He loved to haggle and argue and frankly was brilliant at it. So effective, that while I was constantly hassled, I'm sure street traders, backed off in awe as his reputation spread. As he approached, the shutters came down, goods were hidden. Deal with him and they really were give-away prices.

The monuments and temples we visited were truly magnificent, and indeed far exceeded my expectations, especially Karnak, the Temple of Horus at Edfu and Abu Simbel but armed guards, the blistering heat and ever present trinket sellers do not make for a relaxing time. Thankfully, the cruise ship we joined was magnificent, our fellow travellers good company, the food wonderful and cold Sakara beer very acceptable so you could find refuge on board.

Flying home, once more, we were trapped in an in-flight shopping experience, offered all kinds of tat, herded through passport control and still more retail opportunities at Manchester airport ready for the chaos of baggage collect.

We had left behind temperatures of 96F in the shade in Luxor and returned to a chilly 50F in Manchester. Outside the rain was torrential and a chilly gusting wind welcomed us. We had enjoyed an amazing week, but for all its faults, this was home. I'd had enough hassle for a while. I was ready for home and my own bed.