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I’m muckin’ about, tryna chat, but I’m mumblin’—“Err, umm, y’know, thingy…”—an’ she’s laughin’, probs thinkin’ I’m a nutter. Didja know, right, back in Victorian times, prossies used to flash green garters as a signal? Mad, innit? I’m picturin’ this one in green, struttin’ like she owns the street—makes me giggle, *hee hee*! But then—oi!—some geezer shoves past, all sweaty an’ loud, an’ I’m fumin’, “Oi, watch it, ya prat!” Nearly lost me prossie there, heart’s poundin’—angry as a wasp in a jar!

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I duck into a little shop on Shiroyama Street. The owner, this sweet old lady, hands me a towel and a cup of tea. I’m like, “You’re a lifesaver!” We chat about the town, and she tells me about the history of the area. Did you know Makurazaki was a major port back in the day? Crazy, right?

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