Welcome back to the sun-drenched chronicles of our Egyptian getaway. If you’ve been following along, you’ll know we’ve mastered the art of doing absolutely nothing in high temperatures. Day five, however, decided to test our psychological resilience, our investment strategies, and our parenting boundaries. Spoiler alert: the Egyptian sun isn’t the only thing capable of causing a mild meltdown.
The Phantom Bell of Hurghada
A Night of Broken Dreams
Let’s start with the bedtime story from hell. We went to bed dreaming of pharaohs and poolside cocktails, only to be plunged into a psychological thriller orchestrated entirely by our room’s air conditioning unit.
At some point in the dead of night, the power decided to play a game of hide-and-seek. The AC would abruptly shut off, leaving us to stew in the rising midnight heat, only to kick back into life a few minutes later. Now, a cycling AC is annoying enough, but our lovely room came equipped with a special bonus feature: every single time the electricity surged back to life, a digital chime rang out.
Imagine trying to catch some beauty sleep while a tiny, invisible butler rings a bell next to your ear every twenty minutes. By 3:00 AM, I was ready to commit a crime.
The DIY Dilemma
Naturally, the thought crossed my sleep-deprived mind to investigate the situation. But let’s be entirely honest with each other: my DIY skills back home in the UK are completely non-existent. If a lightbulb goes out at home, I practically have to call a committee meeting.
What on earth was I going to do in the middle of Egypt? March down to the circuit board with a butter knife and a look of stern determination? I don’t think so. I chose the much more British route: lying perfectly still, sweating profusely, and sighing loudly so Michele knew I was suffering.
Breakfast, Blue Pools, and Billionaire IPOs
Luxury for Some, Solitude for Others
By 09:30, we dragged our weary, chime-haunted bodies down to breakfast. The temperature was already flirting with the mid-30s, proving that Egypt does not do half-measures when it comes to morning heat. Thankfully, our trusty waiter, Mohammed, was on hand. He was as attentive as ever, practically reading our minds and ensuring the coffee kept flowing into our exhausted systems.
After refueling, we hit the pool. It was an wonderfully quiet morning because it was just the two of us. The previous evening, we had all agreed that our partners in crime, Darren and Tracy, should go off and properly utilise their exclusive ‘Posh Club’ upgrade.
They swan-dived into their private sun terrace while we settled for the main pool. As the mercury continued its aggressive climb, hydration became the main goal of the day. I watched in absolute awe as Michele drank what must have been her own body weight in water. She was like a camel preparing for a trek across the Sahara, except she was just walking three steps to a sun lounger.
Rockets, Risk, and Residual Volatility
With Michele thoroughly hydrated and the pool acting as a welcome, shimmering oasis of cool relief, I finally found a moment of peace to do some tech-nerd research.
Unless you’ve been living under a literal pyramid, you’ll know that the highly anticipated SpaceX IPO is hitting the market this Friday, 12th June 2026. The guide price is locked in at $135 per share.
Sitting there under a parasol, I found myself facing the ultimate modern dilemma:
- Do I gamble and buy in on Day 1 during the initial hype machine?
- Or do I play it cool and wait 4 to 6 weeks for the inevitable day-one push and wild volatility to settle down?
After weighing up the market madness against my own risk appetite, I decided to hold fire. I’m going to wait and see what happens when the dust settles. Besides, I had more pressing matters to attend to—like finding lunch.
The Joys of Infinite Parenting
The Cold Ice-Cream and the Hot Phone Call
Michele wasn’t feeling particularly peckish for lunch, and I only wanted a light bite, so I solo-navigated my way to the restaurant for a prawn salad. It was crisp, fresh, and exactly what the doctor ordered. Because I’m a thoroughly decent husband, I didn’t return empty-handed; I brought Michele a paper cup of vanilla ice-cream to help her combat the midday glare.
We were sitting there, happily enjoying the peace, when the universe decided to remind us that you can escape the country, but you can never escape your children.
We received a frantic call from back home asking if we knew the whereabouts of one of our offspring. Apparently, they hadn’t shown up for work after the weekend. Queue the immediate panic. Several frantic international messages and tense phone calls later, the missing child finally called us back, sounding entirely bewildered by the fuss.
“What’s the actual problem? I’m not due back at work until Tuesday.”
I had to take a deep breath. “Id10t, today IS Tuesday. You best ring your boss immediately.”
All of our brood are 26 or older. They have careers, bills, and adult lives. They should absolutely not need us to stop-parent them from a sun lounger in North Africa. But guess what? We are still parenting. Absolute maximum levels of being annoyed achieved.
Calming the Nerves by the Coral
To prevent myself from turning into a human volcano, I went for a therapeutic walk along the beach footpath. I eventually wandered onto the long wooden pier where the dive boats dock.
The distraction worked perfectly. The water was so crystal clear that you could see absolute legions of brightly colored fish darting through the coral and seaweed. It was stunning. I snapped a dozen photos, desperately hoping the camera lens would do the colors justice so I could show Michele what she was missing out on while she hydrated by the pool.
An Evening of High Class and ‘Ferril’ Children
The Beer and the Golden Glow
By the time I returned, Michele was back in the water, swimming laps and looking thoroughly relaxed. Miraculously, she was actually starting to show a lovely bit of holiday color and, for an absolute change, she wasn’t burning to a crisp. The camel hydration strategy was clearly paying off.
We spent the rest of the afternoon in blissful harmony—me reading my book, Michele lost in her music—before finally calling it a day at 16:40. We retreated to the sanctuary of our air-conditioned room (which was thankfully behaving itself during daylight hours).
To get the creative blogging juices flowing, I pulled up a chair in our private garden room with a ice-cold Heineken. Even late in the afternoon, it was still a baking 35°C with clear blue skies and not a single breath of wind. Perfection in a bottle.
The Mediterranean Rendezvous
Once scrubbed up and presentable, we caught up with Darren and Tracy at the pool bar for a quick pre-dinner drink before heading over to our sister hotel for a date with their Mediterranean restaurant.
On the walk over, we nearly had a repeat of what we affectionately call our “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang experience.” There were families absolutely everywhere, and Michele had to fiercely control the sudden, overwhelming urge to capture children and lock them away. Some of the little ones were beautifully behaved, but others were running completely feral around the tables.
Thankfully, the food arrived before any international kidnapping incidents occurred. The Mediterranean spread was fantastic, and between the four of us, we absolutely devoured it.
Hot Tubs and Amaretto
On the gentle stroll back to our own hotel, Michele made a very specific, non-negotiable request: we needed to drink at the bar closest to our room because she knew for a fact they stocked Amaretto. Who am I to argue with a woman who has survived a child-induced panic attack?
By 23:00, we decided to officially call it a night, but not before taking a cheeky detour to explore Darren and Tracy’s upgraded ‘Posh Club’ room. They showed off their private hot tub, which looked thoroughly decadent, though we resisted the urge to hop in fully clothed.
After a brief two-minute walk back to our own humbler abode, we crashed out. Bring on day six of the Egyptian tour—hopefully with fewer digital chimes and much better timekeeping from the UK team!
