Right now, though, I feel we need to leave.

That’s not just because we had a car crash, though that’s a part of it.

And it’s not just because we have under a month in which to see Jordan and Lebanon before Z heads off to the UK to see his dad. (These countries are small. They’re young. Swathes of them are off-limits because of the Syrian genocide, anyway.)

But, here’s the thing.

Egypt, right now, is not relaxing.

Not that Egypt, outside Dahab, Siwa and some other smaller towns, ever really is…

This week minor personal disasters and major political movements have come together in a kind of perfect storm.

The car crash happened on Monday night, in Siwa, leaving me with concussion, bruising and some holes in my head and Z mercifully unscathed.

On Wednesday, shortly before we travelled seven hours to Alexandria to be within reach of CT scans and plastic surgery stitches – neither of which, inshallah, have been required — parts of Cairo exploded into violence.

Twelve people were killed, and hundreds injured, with another death and hundreds more injuries yesterday.

Nothing, praise the lord, in Alex.

But, while all this certainly puts my little bang on the head into perspective, at the same time, it all feels a bit, well, much…

Now, this wave of violence may well be over. Until…

Until…

Well, until the next one…

Or, of course, there may not be a next one…

But with elections scheduled for inside three weeks from now – and all hell will break loose if they are delayed – I think it’s highly likely.

As usual, obviously, nobody knows. Because there are two great certainties in Egyptian politics: first that no one knows anything and second that conspiracy rules all.

Which makes me feel, right now, that this is time to leave.

Would I feel this way if I were physically 100%?

I don’t know.

I have a bit of whiplash, a sore head and a couple of holes in my forehead. I would like a relaxing place to recover from this, and take it easy for a couple of days.

That couldn’t be Siwa, because, as the manager at our hotel put it, “Whatever you do, don’t go to the hospital! It’s really dirty!”

And, much as we love Alexandria, it isn’t Alex either.

Why?

Because any place where the central square could suddenly transform into a baying mob of hatchet-faced fundamentalists and plainclothes thugs exchanging rocks, fire bombs and live rounds is, well, REALLY not relaxing.

Now, I don’t want to overstate this.

Family! Do not panic!

Alexandria is not currently dangerous.

I have not felt significantly unsafe here. Political violence generally harms Egyptians and media, not tourists.

But it has felt jumpy, extremely jumpy.

And with elections due in under three weeks, unless the army cancels them (in which unlikely event the country really will go up in flames), the cities are (as I’ve observed before) likely to get more jumpy, rather than less, and more dangerous, not less.

How does it feel? There is always a silence on Friday mornings in Arabic cities. It’s the calm before Friday prayers, the silence of an old Christian Sunday morning or a Jerusalem sabbath.

In most, at the moment, it’s also a sort of frantic calm, the pause before the Friday afternoon protests.

But Friday morning was quieter than usual, an anxious quiet, a terrified quiet.

In the afternoon, there were fewer families on the Corniche, less gridlock, less chaos, less joy…

People were staying home, or staying local, because – well, with folk in Cairo abandoning their cars in the street and fleeing on foot at the sound of gunshots in Abbasiya – they felt jumpy.

Scared.

Now, nobody in the Middle East ever knows what will happen — future statements are always qualified by the word “inshallah” (god willing). And in politics at the moment nobody knows what’s going to happen until something has, and the protests that are supposed to be the big ones are not the ones that go off.

Still, right now, I feel jumpy too. As does Z.

Part of this is personal.

It’s the crash, and I know it is. There’s nothing like taking a window out with your head at 40mph to leave you with a short-term aversion to sudden bangs.

And part of it is the fact that people are killing each other over politics in Egypt again, for the first time in the couple of months that we’ve been here, and they’re using guns.

Because, yes, that does also leave you with an aversion to bangs.

There was a wedding in Alex on Thursday night – many weddings, no doubt.

And, as at all Egyptian city weddings, the traditional celebratory hail of gunfire you still hear in the desert was replaced with fireworks.

But…

You know what?

You hear fireworks, the day after 11 people were shot to death in Cairo and hundreds more injured, the night before the Friday day of protest, and – in our case, three days after a car crash – it makes you jump.

As in: “What was that?!”

“Fireworks, I think. Definitely not gunshots. Fireworks.”

“You reckon?… Yeah, I’m sure it’s fireworks.”

“Definitely not gunshots. Fireworks.”

The rest of the sound effects from Egyptian weddings – hooting cars, screeches, ululations – don’t work too well when one is feeling fragile, either. Nor does the standard throughput of police sirens and ambulances.

Now, I don’t want to overstate this. It isn’t terrifying.

Am I scared to leave the hotel?

No, not in the slightest.

Do I feel unsafe? Not currently.

In fact, we’ve had rather a nice day. We went to a patisserie for breakfast, spent the afternoon at the History of Science Museum, the Alexploratorium and the Planetarium, then had dinner at a roof terrace restaurant around the corner. Tomorrow Z has a lesson with his new physics tutor…

Is Alexandria dangerous? Not right now, though we have been advised to be careful.

Further, given we’ve been hanging out with Egyptian or part-Egyptian male friends most of the time we’ve been here, I haven’t even been sexually harassed ONCE!

But, what I do feel – and I hope that I’m wrong – is that things could turn very nasty very quickly and it’s a good idea, especially when solo with a child, to make tracks in case they do.

Particularly as I’d really like a calm space in which to completely recover from a nasty bang on the head.

So, I think, tomorrow, that is what we do.

Overland to Cairo, then Nuweiba, then across the Red Sea to Aqaba in Jordan.

And, yes, I know the ferry is famously horrid. But I can’t go through Israel because we’re headed to Lebanon later, and we only have one set of passports.

And, as there are no direct flights to Aqaba from Egypt, flying makes very little sense either. Although, if there were, I’d probably ditch our green principles and grab one of those, since, frankly, right now, I’d just like to chill.

And if there’s one thing Egypt isn’t right now, it’s chilled.

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