I remember the plane ride to Hong Kong.

I was travelling half way across the world to a country I’d barely heard of with two friends who a few months before I didn’t know existed.

The flight was twelve hours long. It was the perfect time to take stock. I leaned my head against the window and began to wonder where it had all gone so right.

In all honesty, this plane ride had started three years ago when I was sat in my living room rifling through a college prospectus attempting to choose my A levels. I was young and I was clueless. I had no idea what I wanted to do and found very few of the courses on offer interesting.

The most important thing, I remember thinking, was being around friends. And so I selected all the subjects a close mate of mine had and went back to playing Resident Evil on the PlayStation. It was the height of efficiency.

It wasn’t until two years later, when I’d been forced to apply for an engineering degree (my A Levels were in maths, physics and business), that I realised the consequences of my actions.

I didn’t want to study engineering. I didn’t like it. In fact, I disliked it. But I’d backed myself into a corner. I was screwed. And when I’d said as much in a business lesson, a classmate of mine had overheard.

“Why don’t you come travelling?” He asked.

And travelling is exactly what I did.