The houseboats of Cairo.

The houseboats of Cairo, moored in a crescent along one bank of the Nile, have a colourful past. The names of improvident ministers, hapless lovers and infamous dancers have been linked with the boats, which have played their own part in shaping Egyptian history.

Before the Egyptian revolution in 1952, the boats were playgrounds for the rich and powerful, offering an exclusive setting away from the stuffy formality of official residences and palaces. here aristocrats and intellectuals, politicians and lawmakers joined company with artists, dancers and actors to while away the hours.

Although their glory days are over, the houseboats seem unable to shake off the aura of their glamorous history.

From a distance with their shuttered windows, panelled sides and filigree railings, they exude a faint but recognisable whiff of decadence, of something deliciously illicit but out of reach.

On closer inspection it is clear that many of the once opulent boats have sunk into a sorry state of decay, held together by an assortment of plastic sheeting, corrugated iron, chip board and several deacades of Cairene dust.

No one seems to know where the first boats came from. One theory is that they were former Nile cruisers put out to a kind of watery pasture at the end of their commercial lives.

Whatever their origins, at one time there were hundreds of them, frequently moored two abreast, in the smarter districts of Cairo. Now, only 28 remain, ten of which are registered as permanent residences, boasting modern conveniences including running water and electricity, televisions and telephone answering machines.

Some of the boats are believed to date from the turn of the century but their heydey was undoubtedly during the 1930s and 40s. The Egyptian veteran journalist and newspaper editor, Mustafa Amin, recalls attending a party on one of the boats when he was a young editor in the 1930s.

"I went to a party given by a very rich man called Boshra Pasha Hanna. The boat was like a palace with salons, big bedrooms and even a special place for entertainment like music and belly dancing.

"There were lots of famous people there, and servants in golden uniforms with red feathers in their hats. It was all very luxurious with beautiful gardens leading down to the boats", the writer remembered.

It seemed that everything - even love - was acted out on a grander, more reckless scale on Cairo's exotic houseboats.

"The one time premier of Egypt, Hussein Rushdi Pasha was in love with the belly dancer Monira El Mahdaya who lived on one of the boats", said Amin. "He was so infatuated that he held his cabinet meetings on her boat two or three times.

"On another boat a minister of awqaf (religious endowments) had a love affair with the daughter of another minister. The police caught them and the minister was forced to resign."

Yet another boat provided a base for the Nazi spy John Eppler during his Cairo sojourn. Eppler employed the services of his neighbour, a famous belly dancer, to seduce Allied officers and pass their secrets on to him. The future president, Anwar Sadat, was also involved in the plot and subsequently jailed by the British for treason.

After the revolution however, the boats' fortunes shifted.

The romance, intrigue and decadence which had made them so attractive previously was scorned by the new order.

They came to represent an undesirable past, a frivolous and ostentatious epoch best forgotten.

They became notorious as dens for drug dealing, prostitution and gambling, until finally the authorities insisted that they should be moved from their moorings in Cairo's more salubrious areas and gathered together in one place where the police could keep an eye on them.

Many owners objected to the enforced move and scores of boats were either burned, sold or handed over to the salvage men.

Alia el Wakil, a 65 year old widow, was given her boat as a surprise birthday present in the 1950s. "After the move in the 1960s, many owners stopped caring about their boats and that is when they started to deteriorate", she said.

The decline is partly because the tanks on which the boats are kept afloat require regular and expensive overhauls. Another reason is that in the last decade the Governorate of Giza, which is responsible for issuing licenses to boat owners has made it increasingly complicated and costly to renew permits. As far as the governorate is concerned the boats pollute the Nile and the city would be better off without them.

Despite official disapproval the boats' owners are determined to stay put. Ahmed el Nasr lives in a boat bought by his father in 1950. "It's like living in a villa or a palace", said El Nasr, a chemical engineering student.

"People may think it's strange living on a boat in Cairo but I love it. I wouldn't want to live anywhere else."