Got the Flying Scotsman last night intending to go through to Edinburgh. Car packed with sailors and soldiers; began to yearn for a good bed, hopped off at Grantham. Wandered round for an hour banging up publicans, only to find every place crowded with military: 1.30 am. and in desperation. Bribed a constable to lead me to my Uncle’s house: kicked up a devil of a row; down comes Uncle* in his dressing gown – greetings and explanations – a snack and into a feather bed. Got up this morning to find myself just in time for lunch.
[*Lincoln’s uncle was Rothwell Lee. Rothwell was the younger brother of Robert Lee, Lincoln’s father, who had emigrated to New Zealand in 1864]
Walk March 