Oman, that was one hell of a place.

A family affair

It’s great to know that one can always rely on the family. You can sleep serenely, safe in the knowledge that they care, that they’ll keep an eye out for you and that they’ll react at the first hint of danger.

There I was at the end of October in the back of a Toyota 4WD with my wife and a (female) friend on a trip from Muscat into the interior of Oman to visit a few sites of interest - you know the sort of thing - old forts, date palm plantations, mosques, gift shops. All perfect antidotes to the Disney World that is now Dubai, the next stop on our trip to the Gulf.

We were a little squashed in (mainly due to me, I hasten to add, not my two rear-seat companions) but it was a sacrifice we were all happy to make as our (male) friend had severe back problems and was more comfortable sitting up front with our driver/ guide.

My iPhone was in my trouser pocket and we kept hearing a rather muffled automated voice mumbling something.

Turns out the Voice Control on the phone had been activated unintentionally due to the pressure (!?) of bodies pressed together and had randomly called a few numbers from my contacts.

There was no method in the phone’s madness – mobiles, home numbers, work numbers, UK and other glamourous places in Europe. It didn’t discriminate at all.

It must have been quite a shock for the people I “called”, answering a phone and hearing nothing but some trouser-muffled sounds.

So, three lessons learnt:

 Turn off voice dialling (if you can find that function in the dark depths of your iPhone) next time to save a repeat of running up £49.50 in mobile calls you didn’t want, or need, to make.

Don’t include international dialling codes in your contacts book.

Keep your phone in a place of looser proportions.

And I suppose there was a fourth lesson as well. Don’t expect family members who received strange, muffled calls from their aged relative, who they knew to be in the Middle East, to check you are OK.

The risks of being captured and held hostage in that part of the Gulf were, admittedly, remote but it’s always good to know your nearest and dearest care about you.

A text would have been nice. Something along the lines of: “Received a weird call from you. Is all OK?”

Not just a Facebook comment “Ah, that’s what it was” when I publicly apologised for the phantom calls.

It’s lucky I don’t get out much.