My last train at Bromley was in, or so I thought, I jumped in, then read a paper. A station came
into view said ` Barming ` I was on the wrong train. I was a warm night, so I decided to walk
home to Chatham, all through the rubble of the Aylesford change over. Then up Bluebell Hill
I knew the story of the young girl, wrapped in a cloth on the side of the road. This would have
been about 1.30.am. I wondered if I would see anything. But I saw nothing. Home at 2.20. am.