I've always had a fascination with Spain. From my first visit six years ago I was sucked in by the beauty of the country, the people and their whole attitude to life.

So when a friend spotted a posting on gumtree.co.uk from an English-language teaching company in Spain seeking voluntary teachers to spend a week in the Spanish countryside, l English, I jumped at the chance.

A quick search on the company's website (www.vaughantown.com) revealed a week-paid accommodation in a nice looking hotel, all food and drink covered. All I had to do was buy a cheap flight to Madrid and spend 80 hours helping Spanish business people to improve their conversationan.

I'm a bit of a talker, so 80 hours would be a cinch.

I sent the organisers an email, was assured there was no catch and after filling in a simple form about why I thought I was suited to teach, I was quickly approved as a candidate.

My friend's parting advice: "If it's some kind of weird cult or something - get out of there straight away" - coupled with the fact that I'd never taught anyone anything before, made me wonder if I was doing the right thing. But I figured, the worst case scenario is that at least I'll have a worst case scenario story to tell when I get back.

The organisers from Vaughantown arrange a tapas reception on the Saturday before the official programme starts. It's a way of getting to meet with the other voluntary teachers.

Mike, an ex-Navy man, who now lives in the south of Spain, was back for his 38th programme. Ade, an accountant at a London hospital, was back for her second programme, John, a futures trader from Chicago, was doing his third programme back-to-back, and the rest of us were newbies.

Matt, an Australian living in London for a year; Riyad, a British cardiologist; Rachel, a UK student studying Spanish; James, an IT man, Neil, an IT man and Peter - you guessed it - an IT man.

It would seem that working in IT either pays a lot to let you take a week off to do voluntary work, or that they are adventurous types. Regardless, the one thing we all had in common was that most of our friends and workmates thought we were mad for taking part in the programme. A week later we would all prove how wrong they were.

Despite the free Sangria flowing at the tapas reception and the call of Madrid's fabulous nightlife, we were all warned not to be tempted by the lure of an all-night session as the bus to take us to Gredos, where we would begin our teaching experience, was leaving at 9am - no stragglers would be tolerated.

The wheels had made one rotation when Rob, a Yorkshireman who was to be our Master of Ceremonies and caretaker for the week, grabbed his microphone and told us that, for the next six days, the English teachers would be referred to as Anglos and the students as Spaniards.

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