Sunday morning. The Free Jazz Express, bound for London Saint Pancras, flams and rolls over the points as it leaves Sheffield Midland Station. I’m on board with band-mate Charlie, Charlie’s pal and fellow…

Pimple-peppered forehead pressed against the coach window, I gawp at Yvonne and Alice, naked and entwined, eighteen-feet high at the side of the road. Yvonne, inscrutable, gently rests her head on Alice’s hand. Alice…