It is interesting working on a novel in prison. For one thing, in Egypt you are not allowed to write in prison, so I had to hide my work. If the guards suddenly entered the cell, they could take it. It was also strange because I was writing with pen and paper – I hadn’t done that since I was about 12. And you don’t have an office or a table, just a mattress on the floor, so you are in a position that becomes very painful.

Since I got out and started to write it out on the computer, I’m now facing some more very interesting questions. The sentences are too short. They look good, but when I start rewriting on the computer they suddenly expand. I’m starting to ask myself, did I make this sentence short for literary reasons, or was it just because of the pain in my body and my hand?

Before I went to prison most of my work was related to journalism, but since I got out, and because we are waiting for another decision from the court, the lawyer advised me to keep a low profile, because they are watching us. I would start to write an article, and as I was working on it I would think, what if the judge saw this? Might it affect our appeal? And I found that I could not continue.

Yasmin and I wanted to get married in March. We’ve had to postpone our plans but I hope we can do it soon. We are afraid that if I have to go back to prison, she would not be able to see me because according to regulations, only family and immediate relatives may visit. And even then, it’s all dependent upon each police officer’s mood. When I was in prison, for the first couple of months they allowed me to send and receive letters, but after that I wasn’t allowed any. I had a huge negotiation with an officer just to be able to write to Yasmin and to receive her replies. Sometimes, if Yasmin asked me about details in the case and I answered, the officers would say: “No, you are only allowed to write stuff about love”, or something like that.

The court is about 10 minutes from here, but we won’t be going to court today. When I was sentenced before, I did have to be there. In Egyptian courts, you stay in the cage until the judge has given his orders to the police officer. This time, I can’t attend because the case is going to the highest court in Egypt. Regular citizens are not even allowed to enter; only lawyers.

So we will be at home. I think that I will start my day by making what we call the “championship breakfast”: omelette – a lot of omelette – with falafel, fried potato, spicy tomato, some greens, vegetables, honey and cheese. After breakfast, I think Yasmin and I will stay at home and wait to hear from the lawyers. I will be reading my new China Miéville novel, and waiting for the news.

The judge might not even give his verdict today. It could be in two days’ time, or next week. But if he finds me guilty again, a police officer will be sent to arrest me. Either that or I’ll have to go to the police station myself.

My lawyers are optimistic. They say that the judge has let me out, so he’s probably not going to give me another sentence or send me back to prison. Well, they may be optimistic, but I am not. After my experience, I don’t have any optimism.