What a fantastic summer vacation castrating maize in soustons provee to be. We caught the train from Nottingham to the rugby and farming heart of Southern France to take up seasonal farm work. I had to hitch hike half the way back as I hadn't saved enough from the wine funds to afford a return ticket. I thumbed to Bordeaux to get the train. I was only slightly worried about the woman who picked me up and "took me home for breakfast". My French was awful and I could not quite understand that it was only breakfast she was offering. So I was relieved when a bowl of warm milk arrived and then a tap of the watch to sign time to get to the station. We were young, we were virile, we were free. We
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