As I sit here at my desk, I can hear the crescendo of the southern swell crashing on the shores below me, complimenting the powerful strains of Bach on the stereo. The skies are darkening and one can almost smell the static. The boats have all moved back to Sharm El Maya and there’s so much electricity in the air that I’m feeling fully charged. A prelude, you would think, to a perfect storm. But no, thank you, we had ours last week and I don’t need another one. Well, it was perfect in some respects. The lightning flashing across the sky before earthing on the handrails at Shark Observatory. Claps of majestic thunder rolling in across the sea. Truly awesome and a privilege to experience whilst stood on the edge of the cliff, fortunately next to a taller man than I. However, the later discovery that my roof is a dish shaped porous concrete slab with the structure of a colander was not quite so perfect. Needless to say, the wooden roof didn’t fare so well either. Upstairs we had a river running through the bedrooms and down into the entrance hall which, in keeping with local Sharm tradition, doesn’t actually have a roof at all. I put the kids safely back to bed in the only waterproof room in the house and proceeded to spend the night sweeping water out of the front room into the courtyard and from there, baling it up and over the steps into the garden. Meanwhile, the wife’s hob-knobbing it with the local 5 star Hotel Desperates in some fancy restaurant and can’t get back because all the stretch limos were booked. Call me a modern man but……………….I was quite gratified to learn that the aforementioned 5 star Hotel had also sprung a few leaks.

Fortunately, it only rains here once every seven years and I clearly remember the last two occasions. Back in 2003 it wasn’t what you could really call rain. More of a shower. However, in 1996 it rained almost continuously for three days – a typical British Bank Holiday weekend in fact - and the place was completely decimated. Old Sharm sank like the lost city of Atlantis in its own filth, although being built in the middle of a riverbed it’s hardly surprising. Glad we’ve learnt from that one. The Intercontinental Hotel had been open for a mere 4 days when the waters came flooding down from the mountains, through the sewage farm and ploughed into Reception and several swimming pools before finally re-joining the sea, taking a taxi or two with it. Now, that’s what I call a flood, although a bit smellier than I’d anticipated. Sharm was cut off from comparative civilisation for several days because the roads from Cairo had been washed away. Exciting life and death frontier stuff. Nowadays, the only excitement a Sharmer gets is whether the ADSL is still working and if the Pizza guys can deliver. Guess that’s perfect progress.