Evacuation

Very early on Wednesday morning, a friend in Bahrain called my mobile. "They're going to clear the Roundabout," she said. "The Embassy are advising people who don't have to be here to leave. Could be time to go."

I dragged myself out of bed to make a cup of tea, still uncertain of whether we should leave. As I stood at the kettle there were cries of "God is great!" and the gunfire started. Lots of it. And the sound of tear gas canisters exploding. And more gunfire. It was indeed time to go. "Don't go outside!" I yelled at the kids and promptly booked us flights.

Instructions came from Ian's office that it was not safe to leave the compound. I ran up to the roof and saw a huge cloud of black smoke rising from Pearl Roundabout and Apache helicopters circling overhead. There were several explosions which I later learned were gas canisters, which had been used for cooking by the protesters, exploding. And after an hour, just a deathly quiet.

As I packed suitcases for me and the girls, Ian was on the landline trying to sort out work contingencies: mobile coverage had been cut and the internet was painfully slow. He, along with most other fathers, has stayed to work.

We set off a short time later for the airport. At the end of our road was a checkpoint with a tank, an armoured personnel carrier and a rather intimidating looking policeman in a black balaclava and mask with a rifle slung over his shoulders. He politely told us we could not pass and would have to take a detour to the airport. We passed a further three such checkpoints before arriving. You could count the number of cars on the normally busy motorway on one hand.

There is now a tense calm in Bahrain. Troops are no longer on the streets, but police checkpoints are everywhere. Malls and restaurants are beginning to re-open for parts of the day, although some areas are subject to curfews. Schools are to remain closed until at least 27 March.

So in the meantime the girls and I are in the UK with my folks - an unscheduled family visit. No gunshots, no helicopters, just calm. Last month I helped Isabelle with a project on World War II evacuees. Little did I know that a short time later we would be evacuees ourselves.

Showing Solidarity

It's all kicking off here again. Yesterday on the way to school I had to run the gauntlet of youths dragging barbed wire and industrial bins across the road in vigilante-style road blocks. "Look straight ahead and don't wave!" I instructed the six children in the car as we weaved our way through.

Later I went to the Seef area to renew my car insurance; this is Bahrain and it can't be done on the phone. I had to go the back way as the main road was blocked by protesters. On arriving at the Solidarity insurance offices on the 11th floor of the Seef office block I was greeted by an open-mouthed Bahraini in thobe and ghutrah.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "We're closed - none of my staff could get in."

"I'm here to renew my car insurance," I replied. "With everything going on, it seems negligent to let it lapse. You're here. Can't you do it?"

There were about three others in the office and I became the source of much amusement: expat English woman struggles against all odds to renew Solidarity insurance.

"We're going to use you in our next advertising campaign," chuckles one.

I'm about to leave when we hear the roar of sirens and look out to see about 20 police vans screech onto the highway below to block a band of about 200 protesters who are rushing towards them. Tear gas is fired; sound bombs explode.

"Tea?" asks the man in the thobe.

After about half an hour, the police pushed back the protesters and I left to pick up the kids from school. We reached home without incident.

School is closed today. British Embassy advice is to stay indoors. I had no food in the house so went to the local supermarket this morning and it was packed. Milk, butter and potatoes were in short supply. Clearly deliveries had been affected and people were bulk buying. Some expats are leaving; others, like my Northern Irish friend, seem totally unaffected. "I was reared during the Troubles," says she. "It'll take more than a few protesters to frighten me."

As I write I am receiving reports that the Bahrain/Saudi causeway has been temporarily closed to allow a security force convoy across the water: the Bahrain government has asked for Saudi help in containing the protests.

The protesters have vowed not to give up until they have full democracy and a new government. But a large proportion of the population here supports the King and his ministers. So we watch and we wait.

And at least my car is insured.