The four of us in John Hilton’s Morris Traveller – heading north on the M6. What I remember is that after the blowout we went up the embankment and back down, spinning, to end up stalled and facing the wrong way in the fast lane. John restarted the car – moved it to the hard shoulder and changed the wheel. We stopped in the next service station – somehow not too perturbed. How we managed to avoid being hit is something of a mystery to me now.

We camped at Willy’s Farm with its very basic amenities, and someone stole the Christmas pudding from our tent. The next day we climbed Tryfan and the Glyders in snow and ice. Afterwards, we played pool in the Vynol Arms at Nant Peris with Freddie Mercury on the jukebox. Mick didn’t get into a fight with the locals. He always added a certain frisson to any social gathering. How we managed to avoid getting hit is something of a mystery to me now.