Alongside Sam and Taz travelling between Kings looking for work and a room to rent hand roguing wild oats sprawling through shimmering swathes of barley up down down up singing as we went. On Fridays a small brown wage packet pressed into my hand a passport to music. Portass & Carter paired me with a dark green six-string. We thumbed our way nine miles to Holbeach tipping coins into honesty boxes devouring strawberries from Fenland gardens. The winter before I slept crouched