Read my Portsmouth travel logue here.

The seventeenth city that I am visiting is the East-midland city of Lincoln. The general idea is to visit these cities alphabetically, but when a city proves either too expensive or difficult to get to, I skip them out to return to later. Such was the case with Lincoln.

You will find Lincoln 158 miles north of London. Its etymology isn’t immediately obvious. Originally, the Celts referred to it as “Lindon” with the lin referring to a nearby pool – what is Brayford pool now – and “don,” – a hill. Upon the Roman conquest in the first century, the “don” became “coln” referring to how the city became a “colonia,” to retire ageing legionnaires.

To reach Lincoln, I had to take the 10.06 LNER train from London’s Kings’ Cross station, but I want to touch on the law of attraction – how you can seem to attract the things you’re interested in. At the moment, I am learning Italian – and by learning, I mean Duolingo and reading an Italian grammar guide – I was reading this on the train to King’s Cross where I had not one but two separate Italian men sitting near me and speaking Italian. Funny that. But if you are Italian and you don’t mind me butchering your language then please get in touch. Allora…

My train ride to Lincoln was uneventful. As per usual, they didn’t ask to see my rail card. My current one expires soon. Is there any point in renewing it if they’re not going to bother checking it?

I arrived in Lincoln at midday. First of all, I headed to the cathedral. But even before that, my attention was drawn to a far smaller church that had been converted into a second-hand bookshop. All very cute.

And then onto the cathedral. Remember how I said that Lincoln was originally called “Lindon,” with the “don” referring to a hill? The name was well-earned as Lincoln Cathedral was at the top of the aptly-named Steep Hill. I was far too unfit for such steep walks, so with my thighs burning and heart pounding I was determined to look around every inch of the cathedral.

And then I saw it was £12 entry fee and I quickly bailed. I don’t think I’ve paid to look around a cathedral since Gloucester Catholic-guilted me into donating to their cathedral. I wasn’t intending to start here. It was an impressive building and I still managed to see a decent part of it without paying.

Opposite Lincoln Cathedral was Lincoln castle built by William I and containing one of the only four surviving copies of the Magna Carta. But as it was £17, I quickly bailed as well. At this point, I really needed the loo, but the public toilets were 20p. And if I’m too cheap to pay the £12 for the cathedral, you know damn well that I am too cheap to pay 20p to use the toilets. Yes, I know it was only 20p, but it’s the principle!

Luckily, I found the local museum – or rather the museum toilets, as the museum itself was closed for refurbishment. And it was a bit like going to the toilet in your local Wetherspoon’s. Mental.

After that I visited the nearby Usher Gallery – a museum that hosted the collection of 19th century bigwig and watchmaker James Usher. It was all oil paintings, best China and statues of naked men and women.

They also had a studio where you could draw and display your own artwork which was a lovely little addition. And for some reason there was a bust of Paul Robeson too.

I finished up at the gallery at 1.30. By now my stomach was making whale noises, so it was time to find lunch. Instead, I found this cool graffiti, this questionably named mini-golf course plus a charity shop where I bought five films for £2: the Rock, Atonement, Sherlock Holmes Game of Shadows, Rise of the Planet of the Apes and Rocknrolla.

For lunch, I went to this greasy spoon cafe I had spotted upon arriving in Lincoln: Jenny’s Cafe. Here I bought a cheeseburger and chips for £6.50. Was it amazing? Of course not. It was a £6.50 burger and chips from a greasy spoon cafe – the chips were unseasoned and the bun was soggy, but it filled a hole. And it was infinitely better than what I ate in Derby.

Most importantly, it fuelled me up for the rest of the day. Having seen the best of the city, I headed to Brayford Pool and started walking. Soon enough, I was walking along the Fossdyke Canal, which took me nicely into Lincoln’s countryside.

It really was such a pleasant walk. So silent after the hustle and bustle of the city. At one point, I was watching past this golf course and later by this riverside pub, which I was tempted by, but I stayed strong. Although, not at the level of Chester, which offered some very nice natural scenery. It was certainly better than Lichfield which was lacking on the nature front.

At 3, I headed back to the city, but it was by 4 that I realised I had run out of things to do. Similarly, to Norwich, I was bored with still an hour and a half to kill before I went home. Yes, most of this was down to me being too cheap to pay for the attractions, but, still, I was bored. And my feet hurt.

After seeing a sign for the Gloryhole (seriously WTF Lincoln) I headed into the local shopping centre and doomscrolled for an hour. I know. Fascinating. But at 5, I went into the nearby Waterstones to pick up my Too Good to Go Order. En route, I saw this pub. What happened to Aslan?

And for £4, I received an egg mayo sandwich, a prawn sandwich and an onion bhaji wrap. This would have otherwise have cost me £14 so it was a real bargain.

After that it was time to get the train home where after some stress of loading the tickets onto my phone, I boarded the 17.27 train. I used to print out my tickets rather than using my phone, just in case, something like this happened. Call me a boomer, but I might go back to printing them off.

Ultimately, I enjoyed Lincoln. The town centre was a nice mixture of old and new and the nature was pretty. Alas, the tourist attractions were too expensive for me – it reminded me of Oxford’s extortionate prices, but I would still rank Lincoln high in my list of cities. I had a lovely day here: a day of Paul Robeson statues, steep hills and Narnia-themed pubs.