I was born in Kenya and have lived all my life there.  That’s if you don’t count the bits when I’ve lived in France.

Since 2005, I’ve flitted between both countries, between work – when I can get it – in Kenya, and hard times – when I can’t – in France… my reasoning being that it’s more cost-effective for me to be in France looking after the home left to my brother and me by our mother, with its rather large garden and slightly smaller cat, than for us to pay other people to.  So, instead of whiling away my free time enjoying the equatorial splendours of my homeland with friends, I’ll pack my suitcase and fly to Europe, where – no matter what time of the year it is – I’ll have brought the wrong clothes for the weather, and I’m greeted by a reception committee of French friends and neighbours armed with a litany of “les catastrophes” which have occurred in my absence.  And I’ll grit my teeth and prepare to meet the challenges head-on.  My brother meanwhile, is far, far away in Australia.  At least I have the cat for company.


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