The late evening was full of intrigue. Slightly restless at home, I decided to take a nocturnal stroll. Preparation: polishing the brogues, aligning the cufflinks. Getting the hair correct. Getting the trouser centre crease crisp and true. Sock garters. Ready to roll. As usual, car drivers were jumping red lights, many seconds late. I was anticipating these ostensibly small, but potentially lethal, crimes. Through the dark, three females swept by on bicycles, wearing Dreadnought/naval clothes. I stepped back to give space. Each one saluted me with a crisp nod. Minutes later I approached the magical popcorn shop. This is a new business, and well designed. Built in a Swiss Family Robinson sort of way. I approached the owner; he invited me in. What a charismatic man. He gave me good popcorn, when I wanted to buy it. On, on, moving SE. To the convenience shop. The glow of Osaka, lighting the sky. High, thin, isolated clouds. It is a true metropolis — you could drop Darlington, Newcastle, and Harrogate into it, and an impact would scarcely be felt. Walking back through old Japanese homes. They look good but you will freeze in winter. An elderly man approached me, with his dog. I had spoken to him a year or so ago, just in passing. A regional airliner was fanning above, on the flightpath to Osaka. The man said, in English, “I lost my wife two years ago; I am lonely”. I passed on my condolences. Told him what a splendid, and polite, dog he has. The brogues swept home, to the NW.