The questions "what's it like in Kabul; what do you do there?" fill me with dread. So much so that when I am in Europe I pretend to be an insurance salesman living in Barnsley rather than an aid worker based in Kabul.

Well. This is 'my' Kabul. At the moment, high summer, it's hot and dusty days and much cooler nights. My concrete block flat doesn't recognise the cool nights, radiating heat 24 hours a day.

The school holidays are upon us. Children, and indeed adult men, fly kites everywhere. From perilously perching on tin roofs to standing in the middle of the road they can be seen all over Kabul. Such a gentle, civilised pastime.

The traffic is also gentle (ish) albeit chaotically so. At rush hour most things come to a standstill. Traffic police wave people furiously in different directions simultaneously. Traffic lights rarely work and when they do they are studiously ignored. It's slow though and driving standards are quite courteous, once you establish that people have the right to pull out in front of you and stop without warning.

Official convoys and American tanks, however, are not at all courteous. It is best to try and move away from them as quickly as possible or stop and let then pass. I prefer my roads without too many tanks so try as much as possible to avoid their common routes.

Aid agencies have different security rules for their foreign staff. Some are hardly allowed out at all while others place few restrictions. Foreigners generally congregate in 'safe places', usually approved by the U.N. security team. We are advised to avoid taxis and buses, not to walk around, to vary our routines. Although some do drive their own cars and one or two even try a motorbike, most of us rely on agency cars and drivers.

So what we do depends on the rules we have to follow, or ignore. Not being able to walk deprives me of the only exercise I enjoy. A couple of the posh hotels do have swimming pools. I thought of joining one but Apple couldn't produce a waterproof laptop. We don't like to be apart for too long.

There are plenty of reasonable restaurants, some with wifi for us to stay connected. Three Lebanese, several Italians, a few Indian, one Thai, a French, a Croatian. A few others serve local food in foreign friendly surroundings. Afghans come into most of our lives as colleagues, waiters, communities but rarely friends. There are constant reminders of boundaries, real and sometimes imagined.

There seems to be quite a party scene. I say 'seems' because for grumpy middle-aged men like me they are only learned about second hand. People complain that I never come to parties and then never invite me again when I do. But Thursday and Friday evenings is definitely when the beautiful people come out to play and I'm told that up to 300 aid workers are not unusual. Well, they are highly unusual, but not uncommonly seen in such numbers.

Apart from working, writing a little and eating out too much I spend time trying to complete my registration with the British Embassy here. Despite an injunction which strongly advises us to register and be allocated a warden they haven't been able to do this in my case after four months and several reminders.

I read a little fiction, too. Kabul Coffee House has a selection of novels which you are free to take and return or replace with something different. A clothes shop also has a sideline in books with a sale and return system. The mixture is eclectic, classics next to the latest airport thrillers. Nearly everything in English.

Few things are not available in Kabul - the latest Ipod, expensive laptops, bathroom suites, washing machines. Some of this comes from Pakistan but at the higher end Dubai is the supplier. The Chinese dominate the lower end necessity market while Toyota has the vehicle dollars sewn up.

Small supermarkets in town carry most items I am likely to need. Good quality coffee, breakfast cereal and a serious collection of nuts and raisins. Fruit is everywhere at this time of year; grapes, apricots, melons, apples, pears, mulberries, often sold from barrows at the side of the road to encourage the random stopping referred to earlier. For most things you can pay in the local Afghani currency or in US dollars which at an exchange rate of 50-1 is relatively simple even for me.

So, it is not such a bad place to live if you have money and are protected by an organisational structure from the daily hassles of life for the ordinary Kabuli. It would be good to be able to connect with the place a little more, to view it more closely. And one day it would be nice if the Embassy could complete my registration process.

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