Tuneless

It turns out I have absolutely no music on my iPod suitable for soundtracking a sunset over the Nile.

My collection is endlessly useful for soothing my passage on a packed Luas into town, accompanying me and a cigarette on a mosey down Dame Street or keeping me amused as I shiver at a bus stop on Merrion Square. It adds an extra punch on a drive over the Wicklow mountains and gets me to sleep when my head wants to tell me a thousand different things.

I've discovered on my previous travels that Powder Blue by Elbow is exceedingly good when you're feeling a bit sad at a subway station in Seoul, that Postcards From Italy by Beirut works majestically well when thundering along a bone-rattlingly rough road in Tanzania, and that Springsteen's Thunder Road is cracking on a day trip in Turkey.

But as I watched the sun sink ridiculously slowly over the Nile as I travelled parallel to it on a train with the young lady sleeping prettily beside me there was nothing in my fairly extensive collection that seemed to fit the mood.

I've yet to work out whether this is a simple shortcoming on the part of my musical taste, or whether there are just some things in life that can't be enhanced by anything.