Kuwait. In the most pestilentially venomous, wretched and unpleasant environment I have ever been expected to endure, there are some compensations. Dubai is a short puddle jump away. Of course, there’s not much wrong with Kuwait, apart from the appalling parenting, arrogant, ill-disciplined students, institutionalised racism and driving calculated to book passage across the Styx, with no time to pay the ferryman. This being said, the presence of a ski slope, boasting a black run (well, light grey, really) on a 400m hill, ambient internal temperature -2C, and real snow redressed the balance a little. Turning divinely as usual, I found myself singing on the lift, which was comforting. It stopped snowing long enough to take a picture, in fact there’s a snowfall every two hours and the place is open all night. The last time I skied all night was in the UK after the dry slope suddenly got cut off by a foot of winter snowfall and all the instructors stayed. Here at least the local clods stay out of my way and like most Arabs disdain the need for proper instruction so they fall down the hill mostly, then whine about their equipment. Most of the instructors are Lebanese expats who are paid appallingly but are still happy to ski with a Brit.