There are dinners to eat and friends to run home - all in the half hour before the road-block sand bags go up and freedom of movement becomes reserved to well-connected prostitutes and a few privileged military who know that night's curfew password. Nights in Africa are blacker than in Europe - the lack of electric light sees to that. And night-time road-blocks in Freetown are terrifying because it is under cover of darkness that rebels are most likely to move their weapons around. For journalists, curfews are a mixed blessing.
Very little is likely to happen once everyone is off the streets. But reporting any incident that does take place requires you to hijack a prostitute or senior army officer.
Captain Garba, a Nigerian peace-keeper who was driving home on his own the other day, came to the rescue of two colleagues and myself. It was around 8. Fortunately, he stopped and agreed to take us back to the Cape Sierra Hotel. He drove slowly and stopped often, the vanity light switched on to illuminate our faces. We weaved through the sand bags at half a dozen road-blocks, cutting the engine each time to listen for a distant voice inquiring "who goes there? Capt Garba replied "friend", gave his name and the password, "seat".
It is in situations like these that soldiers get jittery and bullets go astray. I felt safe in the back seat, cowering behind Capt Garba.
Despite the ongoing curfew, a peace deal which aims to end eight years of fighting and coups has helped restore a sense of stability to Freetown. Women sell cooked groundnuts from trays on their heads and rastafarians loaf around providing a Caribbean echo to this city established for freed slaves.
