Oman: Sifha camping

The roads to Sifha were littered with debris from the recent heavy rains. In many places the edges of the road surface had collapsed so the Prado was happy to drive down the middle. The sand on the beach was relatively firm; mother and I stuck camp and sat back to watch Al and Floss erect the spare (Fisher Price-coloured) tent with the dexterity of cows wearing boxing gloves.

The sun's rays created dramatic shafts of light in the clouds in the mountains behind as the barbeque went into its early preparatory stages. While consuming animal parts, a grasshopper the size of a tube of Smarties, attacked our Flossie, taking momentary refuge in the salad before being shooed away. We toasted marshmallows and toes before commencing a game of Cranium in which Al demonstrated shocking humming skills. Mother's quicksand demonstration was however the highlight of the evening. The children won, but we called it a draw.