Two cups of tea, always.

Cheese and whole bread are Portuguese necessities.

Half-drunken bottles of whiskey for the Spanish.

Potatoes take root on the kitchen floor,

with sudden imperative

when the security guards come knocking at your door,

or at times even worse - your quarter's window,

only on the ground floor.

And then it's: 'estoy formado',

TV all screened with smoke,

fag ash in the 'sink' trays,

and doors bang afar to the international walkways.

Burning toast from the heavens sets off the fire alarms,

evacuate all with

St Christopher's mouth ajar.