I feel I am finally beginning to find my way in Madrid. Large cities are peculiar – I live in a small, provincial town.

I like to get up, desayunar and have a walk for an hour first thing. Madrid is better early. Certainly, to a Scotsman it is better early. The facade is lifted and people yawn, walk slowly, wash steps and greet each other in a relaxed fashion.

Cities are often characterised as grand dame. Madrid, I challenge, is like a middle aged man refusing to grow old. The man who dyes his hair too black and wears a leather jacket with a casual – yet expensive – shiny shirt. In the evening the city is flirtatious and sparkles in the coloured lights. In the morning it creaks and it’s old joints give it away.

There is no disguising the fact that the economy has done badly. Many people sit at the street side and have signs protesting unemployment or lack of housing. I feel guilty – albeit my flat is no more than a room with a bed in the attic space. I have stopped a couple of times to speak with people holding signs and clearly needing to speak about their situation. I realised how lonely people become when society withdraws from them.

I arrived just as several of the Christian celebrations started. I say “celebrations” but in a joyful city most Christian celebration seems to involve guilt, penitence and shaming! Thousands of people, literally, filled the streets around the Church of Jesus in the Literary barrio and tried as much as possible to look contrite. On the Friday a good few even managed to cry. Many, however, treated it like a street party for the Queen and had food, flasks and some witty banter. They are still Spanish however sincere their faith.

Last night the centre of the city came to a complete standstill. International Women’s Day was a massive event here. Many thousands filled Cibeles, Gran Via, Paseo del Prado and beyond. Helicopters floated overhead, television crews mingled, loudspeakers repeated chants and demonstrations sat alongside parties. In Sol there were A4 paper posters displaying the details of all the women reported as assaulted or killed in the past year throughout Spain. It was very potent with many people visibly shaken by the numbers and the stories some people had posted of their own experiences and added to the displays.

I leave you with a snap of the Taxi drivers of Madrid in queues – many not appreciating the road blocks and diversions put in place for the Womens Day marches.