Many asylum seekers are reluctant to leave London

It's on the pavement after this that the robust-looking 48-year-old skilled worker, married with three grown-up children - starts to look as if he might cry.

He has a bad back, he says, and shows me the support he wears. His glasses were smashed on the journey, so he couldn't read prices in the supermarket. We agree to go home via an optician.

Ali's new housemates - three fellow Iranians - have been here longer.

They complain about the lack of facilities in their house, racist taunts in the street, and their indifferent landlord. Above all, they complain about being in the north east of England. And vouchers.

But in spite of the vouchers, and in spite of being a few hundred miles further North than he'd ideally like, Ali says he's still glad he came to Britain.

Safe haven

He says our reputation in countries made dangerous by war or political upheaval is one of compassion and generosity. I resist the temptation to trouble the translator with "soft touch".

It's easy to see how that reputation has arisen. We have no problems finding an optician to provide new glasses. He's patient, allowing a queue to build outside as the language problem interrupts his examination.

He explains to Ali that the health service will pay �29.30 towards his new glasses, which will be enough to cover a basic pair. There's a choice between grey and green - grey is the preference - and we're told to return the next day to pick them up.

At Gateshead College they're equally understanding. Because of the dispersal system, the number of asylum seekers coming to enquire about English courses is slightly alarming. Ali's told to come back for enrolment on 11 September, and is warned it might be a bit of a scrum.

Local hostility

On our way out, I stick my head around the corner of the management office. How are they going to cope with this lesson-hungry horde? No-one will be turned away, they say, but the classes may be cut short. In the meantime, requests have gone out for government and European money to help.

But there's a far from universal welcome. Ali's new neighbours are less glad to see him.

One lady says her house has been on the market for two years. People come round, and ask who lives next door. She replies honestly, and doesn't hear from them again.

The only offers she gets are from landlords offering a pittance, trying to add to their portfolio of houses for asylum seekers for which they get a guaranteed rent.

At the end of the week I ask Ali the obvious question. What will you do if you're told to leave Britain? He says he'd be prepared to try to stay illegally. If he goes back, he says, he'll certainly be imprisoned, and possibly killed.