I found a cheap hotel in the least salubrious arrondissement in Paris, Barbès-Rochechouart. The hotel was basically a knocking shop and a rickety, dirty place that smelt really acrid and distinctly unpleasant.

I rented a squalid room with thin walls and a sticky floor and fell immediately asleep. Then there was a raid. A policeman switched the light on and the wall moved. Everything was covered in cockroaches (hence the awful smell). The policeman took one look at me and left. It was ghastly.

Andy and I had a loose arrangement to meet at the Gare de Lyon, so I hung around there, but we never met up. I phoned one of my very few friends who had a job at that time, and was ­competent: Lorna Gradden. She wired me some money. She later became my manager in the Communards. She has always bailed me out, now that I think about it.

I bought a ticket on the magic bus to Amsterdam where I had a friend, ­Robert, who lived on an old Rhine coal barge called the Emily Pankhurst on the Prinsengracht canal. The bath house in the Albert Cuyp Market was on the other side of the canal, so for a few guilders I had a steaming-hot bath with lots of carbolic soap. It was wonderful.

Robert and I had a completely unscheduled fling. It was lovely. So a journey that went so horribly wrong in Paris ended up romantically in Amsterdam. It still is my favourite city in the world.

I learnt that I am not built for that kind of adventure. I am a timid person and haven’t the wit, resources or charm to do it. Fortunately, I was soon in a position to travel in greater ­comfort thanks to pop music; but I do try to leave half my ficelle and half a cup of coffee when I leave a café table, for the benefit of another recklessly intrepid traveller who may need it.

Interview by Nicola Venning

Murder Before Evensong by the Reverend Richard Coles is published by W&N on June 9 in hardback, eBook and audio download.