Cairo

From the moment I'd booked the flight, I couldn't wipe the silly grin off my face. I was off to Cairo to see Kate and Rick and the kids and I couldn't wait. Luckily I didn't have to, as I had, typically, done it all very last minute. The only hiccup on the way was sitting on the tarmac for an hour and a half in Paris while they mended a hole in the plane, which wouldn't have done much to inspire confidence had I been able to suppress my excitement for a moment. That happened later, somewhere over the stunning views of the Mediterranean when I was overcome with nervousness and the recognition of my supreme cheek in inviting myself in the first place. I needn't have worried, and within a millisecond of arriving I felt as if I was coming home. Of course, Kate would be able to make a dose of bubonic plague feel welcome, but that's not the point.

This is the house of anyone's dreams, huge and airy and spacious. I've taken up residence on the veranda, looking out over the pool and garden to the golf course below and desert beyond. It's always idyllic, but the evenings are quite magical, the subtly lit palm trees framing the darkness beyond, the only sound the deep calling of frogs.

It's been fabulous exploring with Kate, who is also doing many of the sights for the first time. In the museum there wasn't much information but we realized that this was making it all the more interesting as we wondered what things were or what their significance had been. I've taught "Ancient Egypt" to nine year olds enough times to know some basic history and burial practices and so on, and knew something of the contents of Tutankhamen's tomb, but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer quantity of artifacts there. Or for how perfectly preserved nearly everything is. It was stunning and quite baffling. I found my mind going round in circles trying to understand the beliefs surrounding these rites and customs. The mixture of literal and symbolic to me seemed illogical - such as taking real pots and pens and furniture with you into the afterlife, but having only a model boat for the journey. Tut was planning to be the Gods' scribe in his next life, so took with him a huge box of pens and whatever else he would need. I hope he's still there, scribbling away in hieroglyphics, The death mask was breathtaking, it's delicate face so engaging that I was drawn repeatedly to look at it as I would a human, as it was, despite its heavy rich gold and slightly stylized features, just that - human, almost living. The inner mummy case is pure gold, beautiful, as is the gold-plated second case. It blew my mind to think of the huge amount of artistry, effort and gold that was spent on death, made only to be hidden forever in tombs. What certainty these people must have had. Or were they just covering all bases? The third, outer sarcophagus is still in his tomb at Luxor, along with his body, but we saw the canopic jars and a chinese doll set of boxes that had encased his well-encased mummy. How difficult must it have been to break out and then have to find your innards in their canopic jars? And if it was all so easy, why did they need the death-masks to help the spirit identify the right body to return to? Yet in all this complexity, there is the simplicity of belief.

And how amazing it is that this belief, this wealth and the desert have together given us such an enormous amount of perfectly preserved history, so separated from our own time that we can only speculate and gaze in wonder.