We were quickly slipped beyond the crowds and introduced to our mounts. Their names, apparently, were Casanova (for me) and Chocolate (for my wife). He planted us on a tourist boat - included in the overall price, I'd been assured - and the fat captain immediately introduced the concept of the enormous tip he was expecting on the way back. Blanking his persistent wheedling, I looked out over the blue waters of the Nile as we chugged across.Luxor is a city divided. We had left the west bank, the city of the living, with the imposing temple of Karnak, and were heading for the city of the dead, on the east, where the painted and inscribed tombs are dug into a harsh landscape of rock and sand.The east bank didn't look especially dead: it was heaving with a tourist industry starved of tourists and it was some relief to have a guide to drag us through the touts. But at only pounds 4 a head for a day tour it hardly seemed worth bargaining. The next morning the hotelier's son took us to the river.

One said "Avoid Mohammed at all costs: he is slimy and ignorant". Since half the population of Egypt seem to be share this name, the advice could have been more specific. The best way of getting to the Valley of the Kings is the way of the ancients: by donkey. The deal was sewn up within 10 minutes of our arrival in Luxor.