My last day in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan starts poorly when the hotel gives me a wake-up call intended for another member of the party who's leaving at 5am. I crash again after letting the hotel know the error of its ways, surfacing at a more reasonable time for breakfast.

The rest of the morning is spent catching up with this blog, for your information and edification, Dear Reader. The taxi surprisingly turns up on time.

I can report that Amman joins the list of airports which don't consider water to be an explosive. Alas, I fail to notice my change of gate and end up last on the plane, albeit in my online-booked seat in pole position.

On the plane, I recieve a bizarre whinge from a fellow punter several rows back when I have to move his bag in the overhead locker to fit mine in. Later, with the aisles packed with disembarking passengers, the gentleman kindly passes my detritus down the plane.

Royal Jordanian gets further points from me for having leather seats in chav class.

Time from stepping out of Jeddah airport to seeing first bloodstained corpse: 15 minutes.

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