They say that contrast is the spice of life, and if yesterday’s whistle-stop, sweat-inducing trek through the ancient tombs of Luxor was a fiery vindaloo, today was a beautifully chilled dish of vanilla ice cream.
It is Monday. Day four of our grand Egyptian adventure of 2026. And after walking enough miles yesterday to rival an ancient Pharaoh’s army, my body didn’t just request a rest day—it staged a full-blown mutiny.
The Luxury of the Cancelled Alarm
There are few sounds in modern life more offensive than the morning alarm. That repetitive, digital squawk that drags you kicking and screaming from the land of nod. Last night, we took great pleasure in executing those alarms. Deleted. Banished.
The executive decision was made: today would be a lazy day.
We had a loose agreement with our holiday partners-in-crime, Darren and Tracy, that we would catch up “at some point during the morning.” In holiday-speak, this is the ultimate code for “do not dare look at me or speak to me before I’ve had caffeine.”
The 09:00 Synchronised Wake-Up
As the universe would have it, our internal body clocks are annoyingly synchronised. Michele and I finally opened our eyes at the decadent hour of 09:00. Just as I was contemplating the logistics of moving from the bed to the shower, a message buzzed on my phone. It was Tracy.
“Just woke up. Heading for showers.”
Perfect symmetry. Even Darren—a man who usually greets the dawn with a terrifying amount of enthusiasm and is the eternal early riser—had suffered a delayed start to the day. Luxor had claimed us all.
The Lucina Breakfast Club
Twenty minutes later, we congregated at Lucina. Opting for the air-conditioned sanctuary of the indoors, we gathered around a table to refuel.
Now, breakfast on holiday is a serious business, and today’s orders did not disappoint:
- Michele: Chose the elegant route with a classic Eggs Benedict.
- Tracy: Opted for two eggs, sunny-side up, perfectly capturing the weather outside.
- Darren: Went for a mountain of scrambled eggs accompanied by a generous portion of beef bacon. (A quick cultural side-note for the uninitiated: we are in a Muslim country, folks, so your traditional pork porkers are off the menu. Honestly? The beef bacon hits the spot regardless).
- Myself: I stayed fiercely loyal and had the Spanish omelette. Again. If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it, right?
The Sun Lounger Tactical Maneuver
With bellies full, it was time to face the ultimate holiday crucible: the race for the sun loungers. This requires tactical precision, military-grade timing, and a complete lack of shame.
A division of labour was quickly established. Tracy and I were assigned to reconnaissance and acquisition—our mission was to find four loungers together by the pool. Michele and Darren, meanwhile, were sent to the towel hut to secure the necessary linen currency.
The 30-Second Triumph
Usually, securing four prime poolside spots requires the luck of the gods or an undignified sprint at 06:00. Today? The gods smiled upon us. It took Tracy and me approximately 30 seconds to grab a quad of perfect loungers.
The positioning was a work of art: just enough blazing Egyptian sun to keep Michele happy, and a generous patch of shade for yours truly to hide my British complexion. Mission accomplished.
Is it Too Early for a Beer?
By the time the towels were laid and we settled into our wooden kingdoms, the clock struck 11:00. I looked at the bar. The bar looked at me.
Now, a philosophical question: Is 11:00 too early to crack open a cold beer?
Holiday Logic Check:
Are you at work? -> No.
Is the sun shining? -> Yes.
Are you in Egypt? -> Yes.
———————————-
Conclusion: Drink the beer.
Hell no, I’m on holiday!
The rest of the morning dissolved into a glorious blur of swimming, sun-worshipping, and general relaxation. At one point, the sheer joy of the pool reduced us to childhood antics. Michele and I invented a new game called ‘Turtles’.
The rules were simple: my wife clung onto my back like a backpack while I swam clumsily across the pool toward a bewildered Tracy and Darren, loudly proclaiming: “I’m a turtle, and this is my shell (Michele) on my back!”
Look, nobody said 2026 was the year we grew up.
Lunch, Gales, and Alcoholic Casualties
By 13:00, the pool activities had worked up an appetite, so we headed back to Lucina for lunch. This is where the day took a brief, dramatic, and incredibly wet turn.
Now, regulars of my tales will know that I am usually the clumsy oaf responsible for any table-side disasters. (Looking at you, Brian). But today? I am entirely innocent.
The Great Beer Flood of 2026
We were sitting enjoying our lunch when a sudden, rogue gust of wind ripped through the outdoor dining area. It grabbed the heavy menu right out of Darren’s hands. In a split-second trajectory of doom, the menu collided directly with a near-full glass of beer.
The beer didn’t just spill; it launched itself across the table, completely drenching Michele and her handbag.
Darren looked mortified, Michele looked shocked, and I—after checking that the handbag would survive—felt a deep sense of relief that, for once, the spilled drink wasn’t my fault.
Divided We Walk
After the lunchtime excitement, the group split up for the afternoon. The girls, unbothered by a bit of spilled lager, settled right back into their sun loungers by the pool to continue their tan-line quest.
The boys, however, needed action. Darren and I set off on an exploration walk along the sweep of the bay, stretching our legs and taking in the coastal views.
The Pre-Dinner Pints
After our trek, we reunited with the ladies, who informed us it was time to get ready for the evening. In holiday terms, this means the men get ready in 5 minutes, while the women embark on a multi-hour ritual of hair-straightening and makeup mastery.
Naturally, Darren and I weren’t going to sit around twiddling our thumbs. We snuck off for a couple of quick pre-dinner beers while the girls worked their magic. Efficiency at its finest.
A Taste of Italy in Egypt
Tonight’s culinary destination was the resort’s Italian restaurant. And oh, what a choice it was.
I’m going to call it early: this was the absolute best meal of the holiday so far. The pasta was al dente, the flavours were authentic, and the whole experience was washed down beautifully with a couple of glasses of surprisingly good Egyptian red wine. Who knew the land of the Pharaohs could produce a vintage that pairs so well with Italian cuisine?
Rooftop Nightcaps
Refused to let the night end there, the four of us climbed the stairs to the resort’s rooftop bar for a nightcap.
From our elevated perch, we could look down onto the square by the pool, where the evening entertainment was in full swing. Listening to the music, sipping our drinks under the warm Egyptian night sky—it was the perfect end to a perfect, lazy day.
The Post-Script: An Unexpected Smash
We are not generally “pool people.” If you give us a choice, we will choose the beach every single time. We usually prefer the feel of the ocean and the expanse of the horizon. But today? We genuinely enjoyed our poolside retreat. It wasn’t overly busy, the atmosphere was serene, and—best of all—there wasn’t sand getting into places sand should never be.
However, the universe clearly decided I couldn’t get through the day without causing some damage.
The Kindle Catastrophe
As we were packing up our gear at the end of the pool day, preparing to head up for our evening meal, I went to slide my Kindle into our holdall. In doing so, my Kindle caught a glass that had been resting on the parasol stand.
Smash.
It shattered into a million pieces right next to the sun loungers. I immediately went into full British-apology mode, but the resort staff were absolute superstars. They swept onto the scene in seconds, telling me not to worry, and cleared the entire hazard away in record time.
While I appreciate the swift cleanup, it did leave me wondering: Why on earth do they allow actual glass by the pool area? That’s an accident waiting to happen—and unfortunately for them, I was the accident.
Now, it’s 23:00. We are safely tucked up in our room, chilling out, and ready to see what day five brings. Hopefully, fewer broken glasses.
