Sooner or later we will all experience being a host. It is one of life's certainties. For expatriates, unfortunately, this certainty is repeated several times over. And over. And over.

If you look in the dictionary, the meanings of host are listed as, a) one who entertains and b) organism harbouring a parasite. Most guests make you feel like a) but let's be honest, most of us have occasionally felt like a b).

When you’re an expat, any one of several dozen friends or relatives can telephone and announce their imminent arrival. The number of visitors you’re likely to receive is proportional to how exotic and tropical your location is. My friend Chris in Dar-es-Salam hasn’t had one guest in the past 12 months, but had a succession of them during her time in Dubai.

Sometimes guests stay for two weeks, sometimes for four. Sometimes they even overlap with other visitors, turning their stay, and your home life, into a giant game of Twister and Sardines combined.

When someone comes to dinner, it's easy to clear whole counter tops with the sweep of an arm into a drawer, but house guests access all areas; so you either spring clean or break a window at the last moment and claim you've been burgled.

Guests always get the best bed linen and towels while your en-suite bathroom is festooned with your teenagers' discarded Mickey Mouse beach towels and tie-dye effect ones you created when you last turned your hair a shade of 'Autumn Chestnut'. OK, so I’ll speak for myself.

You fill the fridge with exotic food, hoping the guests will think this typical of your weekly shopping, until your youngest child asks loudly what all the 'funny food' is called.

At least visitors see the novelty in things that have become commonplace to you. When they ask you to stop the car, suddenly, to take a photo, you look around expecting some breathtaking scene or stunning sunset…then watch them as they photograph a goat, a mosque or each other next to a 'camel crossing' road sign or whatever else is unusual about your location – which has now become so ordinary to you.

They swim in the sea in freezing January and sunbathe in what to you is the middle of winter. In the Middle East they buy little stuffed camels, mosque shaped alarm clocks, brass Aladdin lamps and whole dish-dasha outfits to wear at the next Round Table fancy dress party.

They talk to your children about radiators, train journeys, forests, pigs, the postman and their milkman. They check banknotes on both sides before paying for things and they walk!

Best of all, bless them, they make you feel that little bit closer to home. So what I said about parasites…I take it all back! They're welcome any time!