Shop owner in Lavapies, Madrid.

IN LARGE

Taken in an area of Madrid with a high percentage of immigrants mainly from North, West and Sub-Saharan Africa, the Middle East and the Indian subcontinent. Although increasingly they rub shoulders with the colourful, dreaded, leftist, hippies, squatters and bohemian artsy types.


I had to assist with a Social Science class on Tuesday, which typically gets my juices flowing- I like volcanoes as much as the next 9 year-old kid. This time, however, my juices very rudely took me surprise. And volcanoes were the last thing I wanted to think about.

You see, I had paid the price for some paella I'd eaten the night before. Well, I did literally pay the price, with some change scraped of my bedroom floor, but I'd also paid the price for eating a mixture of rice, chicken and fish that someone was willing to sell me for the sum of coppers lying under my bed. The paella was a metaphor for this money; no-one knew how long either had been lying around the room.

Back to the classroom. For the first part of the day I'd managed to somewhat suppress the tumbling stomach cramps and the feverish chills. As the day rolled on, though, so did my stomach, ever more impatiently. In the final hour I started to shiver, and although I was toasty to the touch and sweaty of brow, I popped my jumper on to sustain an illusion of good health to the children.

So far I'd been sat down at the side of the class, watching a video with the students, but now I had to stand up and ask some questions that I'd prepared the week before. Gravity naturally took it's course and my body had to take emergency action.

I was the Hoover dam personified.

I've had a couple of scary experiences in my life. I once got in a car full of strangers at 5 in the morning having just arrived in the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan, and they promptly drove off and I had to bolt out the door at the next traffic light. But this is easily eclipsed by the prospect of physically losing your dignity in front of thirty tweens.

I could feel salty beads edging down my cheek. I tried to compose myself, leaning onto the desk slightly and gripping tightly. I could barely swallow because I was so dehydrated. It felt like any water I did have in my body was currently trying launch me into the classroom above. How could I ever show my face here again if I was to go ahead and relax right now?

That thought got me through the hour. But with the bell did not cometh safety, but a half-hour metro ride. The pregnant and the older passengers obviously thought their plight was more severe than mine. They selfishly didn't give up their seats for me.

They obviously didn't see me eyeing up the cleaner's mop-bucket.