If someone had sidled up to me five years ago and told me that I’d end up living in the Middle East (and not even the cosmopolitan city of Dubai where you can spend your weekends sipping cocktails on the beach, but in a questionable apartment block in a sketchy part of Kuwait) I’d have laughed. And then laughed some more. And yet here I am, suddenly living the expat life in Kuwait. How did that happen?

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