I always find him a slightly odd combination of blokishness and lyricism.
Walking Home (the book where he walks the Pennine Way trading readings for accommodation, food, and someone to transport his huge turquoise suitcase, the Tombstone, between stages) is a bit like that, too, but errs on the side of cheerily lugubrious blokishness.
Having just reread TSP, though, with its (supposed) £48 a week budget for all food and accommodation, I keep marvelling at how much money he gets in his sock at every nightly reading (he passes a sock rather than a hat) — he gets over £150 from one, And is clanking!0 when he walks from pound coins, and has a Tupperware in his day sack stuffed with notes!)
And how much the people ‘hosting’ him do! They pick him up from a pre-arranged point on the path, take him to their house, feed him, give him a room for the night, breakfast and the next day’s packed lunch, and have also arranged a venue for and publicised a reading.
Pretty much what ‘Grant’ and his ‘three beauties’ do for the Walkers, minus the massage!
I haven’t read Walking Away, SA’s book about walking the SWCP, but it does sound just about possible that ‘Grant’, vague,y aware of the terms on which SA was walking the path, genuinely believed Moth was SA ,who had somehow shown up on the wrong date, or missed his pre-arranged ‘host’ for the night, and thought he was trading overnight accommodation and food for a reading. (In which case Moth’s halfhearted rendition of ‘The Boy Stood On the Burning Deck’ must have been a bit of a damp squib…)😀