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pharaoh enough

Crossing the nocturnal desert, we sleep in our seats, teenagers lost in restless dreams. The Nile bends to meet us again, the sun rising as we cross the Aswan High Dam. Lake Nasser shines an unreal blue. Beyond, Abu Simbel is crouched, cupped in his mound. The impassive guardian statues are illuminated by the golden morning.

Inside, Ramses II – boastful king, proud charioteer – walks through the walls, his story unfolds. He is carried by boats, raises armies, defeats his enemies, sacrifices crocodiles. It’s strength embodied, ultimately fleeting – a lesson for teenagers in the overwhelming power of time. We return to our cruise ship, dazzled, humiliated.

Liz Kolbeck, Manchester

The beautiful north

Seven years ago I sat with my 85-year-old father reading The Sunday Telegraph. Suddenly he looked up, waved a flyer at me, and said, “I’ve always wanted to go to Iceland.

“Me too,” I replied wistfully. The leaflet advertised a cruise with experts in St Kilda in the Outer Hebrides, Heimaey in Iceland and the Faroe Islands. Two weeks later Dad called, “We’re leaving for that cruise.”

“Oh dad,” I say. “You’ll love it.”

“No,” he laughs. “We’re all going.” I remember bursting into tears.

A few months later, our party of six boarded the Pearl. Our first stop alone – St Kilda, in all its wild and haunting beauty – was truly breathtaking.

Katherine Hobbs, Hampshire