Page 1 of 3

With railways in the news, Debbie Eales – editor of the Kent Messenger Press Agency and Kent Courts Reporting Agency – thought she would share with HoldTheFrontPage visitors the story of one of her regular trips to Egypt.

Acres of newsprint have recently been devoted to Britain’s ailing railwaynetwork, but things could be a lot worse.

Last week, I was talked into a ten and a half hour rail journey from Luxorto Cairo by my very persuasive husband, a consultant neurologist, based inEgypt.

I still have not forgiven him.

Looking at the economics of the trip, there was no contest.

The train fare – a mere 56LE (about £10 for 400 plus miles) – wasundoubtedly a bargain compared with the whopping £87 demanded by Egyptairfor the same journey.

“Make sure you get the Spanish or French train,” my husband told me.

“They’re much nicer. And be sure to book a first class ticket.”

Avoiding the scrum for tickets at Luxor Railway Station, it was worthgreasing a hotel porter’s palm to go and queue for me.

Feeling very pleased with himself, the porter smilingly handed me my ticketwith strict instructions to turn up for the 10am Luxor to Cairo train – seat13 (unlucky for some), carriage number one.

I should have realised, when I arrived at Luxor station the next morning(resembling a pack mule, carrying a suitcase holding five dresses for everyoccasion), that the train system – like the rest of Egypt – runs in aparallel universe, where time and punctuality simply do not exist.

The train was 40 minutes late (no apologies; no explanation) and, as theonly woman travelling, I was subjected to my fair share of curious stares asI waited patiently on platform number one.

Surrounded by turbaned, galabayah-clad natives, gesitculating, spitting andcarrying cardboard boxes tied with string, I tried to keep my head down andavoid eye contact.

Fortunately, observing Muslim tradition, I’d dressed in an abayah and headscarf – hoping to blend in with the locals – but I still stood out becauseof my gender.

Next page…