Fri 31 Dec

Tom and Eleanor have gone off to the pyramids with Avi. Having just been I feel far more attracted to the idea of having the flat to myself. It isn't too clear what my options are, though I'm sure the invitations to various khawaja parties would be fun, I'm inclined to stay my side of the river.

In the streets there is great excitement. "Fi Salaam" (there is peace) people keep saying. An old man sits by the side of the road listening to his transistor radio. I get home around 6pm and put the TV on. All eyes are on Navasha and the signing of various peace making protocols before the end of the year. A neighbour calls in and helpfully explains some of the things I was missing in the Arabic commentary.

I cook a nice fish supper and then about 11pm I wander along to Gay Shisha - the nearest thing we have to a village pub. But even here it is quiet and by midnight I am almost the only customer.

Days later I hear about the Sudanese tradition of throwing yoghurt and eggs at each other in the streets of a posh suburb. Apparently thousands of middle-class Sudanese flock there for the experience (please let's not use my car). When I ask some "who pays for the eggs", and teasingly "what about all those starving children in Africa?" a doctor tells me "it's only for one night, we help the poor all the rest of the year, it is good to have balance."