Even when several youths brushed against me in an intimidating way, some muttering suggestively in Arabic, I felt more annoyance than fear.

It was only later, as it grew dark and a younger, rowdier element arrived in the square, that the mood shifted to a more sinister undercurrent.

These teenagers behaved like football hooligans, charging around in long conga lines.

When I got caught in the middle of one particularly boisterous group, they mobbed me and several attempted to grope and fondle my body.

For a moment I was nervous – I could see Phil’s head but several bodies were between us – then I got angry and pushed back. Luckily, I managed to wriggle my way out of their grasps.