THE Duchess of Cornwall went shopping yesterday. At first it did not look like a good day for it, given that she was staying at an eco-lodge with no electricity in the middle of the Egyptian desert, a few miles from the Libyan border. But all told it was a rather successful outing.

It will not, hopefully, spoil any surprises for her daughter, Laura Parker Bowles, to disclose that she can soon expect to take delivery of some splendid new jeans. The Duchess spotted them at a workshop on the outskirts of Siwa.

Inside the traditional Kershef house, made of sun-dried salt rock mixed with straw, 72 unmarried women and girls, mostly from Berber tribes, were sitting round the walls on cushions, embroidering jeanwear.

The Prince of Wales and the Duchess had come to see a sewing project, which was started with financial help from the British Embassy in Cairo, to provide local women with employment and a measure of financial independence they had not had before. Now their expertise is used by an Italian designer who sells the jeans, kaftans and tops they embroider for hundreds of euros.

In a room where all the women had their heads covered and some showed only their eyes and turned away when cameras approached, it seemed a little incongruous to see photographs on the wall of models wearing scanty outfits. But the women said that they liked the clothes.

Zeinab Soliman confessed that she had never heard of the Prince of Wales until this visit and still did not know what country he was from.

The Duchess lost no time in getting down on the floor and squeezing on to a cushion between two girls. Although she spoke no Berber and they spoke no English, she somehow maintained a three-minute conversation, teaching them the words for “jeans” and “silk” and keeping up a dialogue that both sides seemed somehow to understand.

She eventually called to her husband: “You can pull me up.” He dutifully did so and her eye alighted on some particularly fine garments hanging up. “So brilliant, so beautiful,” she said. “My daughter would love it, absolutely love it. Can I buy some? Just tell me how much, I would love to get some.” She was told they could send some to her. “Size 12,” the Duchess said. Her daughter may not be thrilled at her imparting such information to the world’s media.

The couple were given some sheets with “C & C” embroidered on them and someone from the Italian designer asked them their home address to send on the clothes. The Prince looked nonplussed. It is unlikely that anyone has ever asked him that.

On the way to the ancient ruins of the Temple of the Oracle, the Duchess discovered how tricky it is to prevent one’s skirt from doing a Marilyn Monroe when there is a stiff wind blowing across the desert.

“Now this is where we have to worry about skirts,” she muttered at one especially breezy moment, anxiously holding down the folds. Seasoned observers suggested that she could do with a lesson from the Queen, who has tiny weights sewn into the hem of her skirts.

The Prince may have been weighing heavier concerns. The man who would be king was following in the footsteps of one of the most famous of all monarchs. After conquering Egypt in 331BC, Alexander the Great reputedly battled through a sandstorm that nearly cost him his life to ask the oracle if he was a god. He was told that he was and that he would be master of the world.

The Prince, whose mother hinted the other day that Australia might soon be the next chunk of the old Empire to go its own way, might have asked if he would be master of what is left of the Commonwealth. Sadly, the oracle was not at home, having last been seen some centuries ago.

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