Here's my printer nestling in its little lair where it has been for the last twelve years or so.  Printers can be temperamental and mine is no exception.  They require delicate handling but this week delicate morphed into desperate. It was not at all easily cajoled back from refusing to be recognised as a presence on my wifi network.  I spent two hours at it.  I climbed into the attic to search for a particular cable (later found to be in a more accessible location).  l unearthed the installation instructions and the installation CD.  Such a thing surely no longer exists.  I met obstacle after obstacle from PC and printer, deciding finally that I would just have to buy a new one when miraculously a panel appeared on my screen acknowledging the printer's presence but complaining about the absence of a driver.  That was easily remedied.

So now I was able to print off the 30 page script I'd been sent for the Arkle show I'm doing.  Somewhat galling then to learn a couple of days later that I will very soon be furnished with a printed copy in a natty ring binder.

The final Jazz Festival gig at St Brides was devoted to Miles Davis. A group led by the pianist David Patrick whose jazz version of The Rite of Spring was a much lauded success a few years ago gave us Davis after A Kind of Blue.  Not entirely to my taste but very well played.  Ewan Hastie who won the BBC Young Jazz Musician title recently was on double bass and Matt Carmichael who won all three of the RCS's jazz prizes in his final year played tenor sax. 

I heard Matt play in the Jazz Bar earlier in the week with a Norwegian trio led by the pianist Liv Hauge.  They'd met when Liv spent some time at the RCS.  It's a wonderful trio and the added sax only improved the gig. 

Another Norwegian, a saxophonist this time, whose gig at the Jazz Bar I enjoyed was Mona Krogstad.  The music I've linked to is great.

I was glad I hadn't gone to the Napier Jazz Summer School this year when I went to hear their concert that features as part of The Jazz Festival.  The five or six combos were brilliant and the sax players were all so much better than me.

There seems to be a flurry of interest in RB Cunninghame Graham with a number of books coming out.  I heard his great great nephew James Jauncey talk about him at the Book Festival a year or two back and I'm going to hear him again with the supposition that he's now managed to put pen to paper.  One who has is Lachlan Munro and I was at the National Library to hear him talk about his book and more generally about Cunninhame Graham in conversation with Alan Riach of Glasgow University.  The discussion was very interesting and well illustrated.  I flirted with the idea of buying the book but it looked a little to scholarly for my taste so I held back.  Jauncey's will I think be more jaunty.

Zambia's women failed to do much in the World Cup.  Disappointing after their performances in the Tokyo Olympics.  I don't mean in terms of winning matches.  I didn't expect that though they've still got Costa Rica to play; they might have a chance there.  Barbra Banda scored  hat-tricks against both China and the Netherlands in Japan but here she failed to shine.  I don't know whether that was excellent marking by the opposition or rampant failure by her own side.  Whichever, it was disappointing.

I went to my first Fringe show at The Traverse this week and it fair lifted the spirits in eager anticipation of a theatrical riot over the next few weeks.  The Grand Old Opera House Hotel was a really good fun show.  Very funny, impressively staged and performed - those lightning costume changes! And amusingly sung.  Yes sung. Opera doesn't just feature in the title.  

Birling Venezualen dancers at the Jazz Festival launch party.  The one in red is birling too fast for my phone camera to cope.  It was a good evening.  Dignitaries made speeches, artistes sang songs, dancers and punters (though not me) danced around to jazzy rhythms and drink was drunk (by me, and others).

When the festival proper started I went to St Brides to a gig featuring music by or associated with Lee Konitz.  The band was led by Martin Kershaw who told us how much he admired Konitz and how listening to him had been a major influence when he was studying in the States  Martin's alto was accompanied by Helena Kay's tenor and a fine rhythm section. 

That was a good start and over the weekend as well as an afternoon of convivialty at Siobhan's and a crackers rehearsal I managed to get to two gigs.  In the Jazz Bar, where I bumpted into some saxophone friends Sue Mackenzie entertained with a trio consisting of her, a harpist and a percussionist that grew into a septet with the addition of alto sax, trombone and double bass.  The music was all written by Sue and was excellent

After that, with one of the people I had bumped into, I went off to George Square to hear a marvellous alto player from the States.  Lakecia Benjamin can screw that horn up to high doh and beyond and down again at lightning speed with frightening precision and musicality.  The energy, physicality, good humour and interaction she put into the show was great.  And her piano player was awesome.

Anyone who is in Houston TX on September 8th can catch her at the Miller Outdoor Theatre.

One of the first jazz records I owned when I was a teenager was an EP of Sydney Bechet which I loved so a gig featuring Dick Lee and his band Nouveau Bechet was a draw.  With Dick on clarinet and soprano sax, Colin Steele on trumpet and vocals by Ali Affleck it was a treat.  Not everything was echt Bechet, but what wasn't was in the same genre and drawn from the same well.  

Because I was rehearsing I didn't see the Wimbledon men's final and because I was partying I didn't see the ladies final either.  But I'd seen a lot of the championship and had I been a betting man would have put money on Jabeur and Djokovic.  How wrong.  No prophet I.

This heron is a resident of the Water of Leith that I often see when I walk along the river between St Marks park and Canonmills.  Usually it's standing stockstill in the water waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting fish that gets too close.  

I was on my way to have a stroll round the Botanics where I popped into Inverleith House to see the exhibition that was on there.  Called Shipping Roots it's about the spread of plants through the British Empire whether intentionally in the case of the introduction of the prickly pear to Australia or accidentally in the case of many plants whose seeds came to Britain trapped in the wool of Australian sheep.  Not simply a factual exhibition it's a display of art and a musing on colonial history.   

The spreaders of the eucalyptus tree from its native lands of the Australian aborigine get a bad rap from the exhibition.  It sucks too much water out of too much of the planet it seems.  It's lovely though.

Here are a couple of reviews giving more detail and a more thorough consideration of the exhibition -  one and two.  

Much of the pioneering work in the development and application of computers took place in the UK, notably as far as the business world is concerned, by the Lyons company.  It was founded in 1885 and grew to be one of the largest food companies in Europe.  They ran a chain of cafes mostly in London where the Lyons Cornerhouse and its "nippy" waitresses became an institution.  In the 50s they built the LEO computer for their company's use but then branched out into the computer business by taking in work from other companies and then building and selling LEOs.  In the 60s things got tough and LEO Computers as a standalone company vanished amidst the mergers and takeovers of the time.  In three years in the late 60s I worked for four companies without moving from my desk.  One of those was English Electric LEO Marconi which goes some way to explaining my interest in a U3A online talk about LEO Computers.  It was excellent.  Somebody should write a book.  They probably have.

One of Lyons' enterprises in its heyday was running a tea estate in Malawi (then called Nyasaland).  Despite living next door in Zambia for ten years and despite Scotland's many ties to the country; its second city, until 1975 its capital, is called Blantyre for goodness sake, I never managed to visit.  Edinburgh U3A held a talk about those ties the other week that I really wanted to go to but rain stopped play.  No way did I fancy going out in that downpour.  Fortunately they filmed it and for a limited time it's available online.

For my final simulation of the season at Napier I was an old guy recovering from a hip replacement being administered to by physiotherapists trying to get me to move my legs about and get up and push a zimmer.  I cooperated as much as I thought a woozy pensioner in those circumstances would which wasn't as much as they would have liked I'm sure.  The idea is for them not learn not to have an easy ride.  The only downside for me was that my reward, a coffee voucher, couldn't be used because the coffee bar was closed by the time we finished.

I've been away a couple of times since I last posted.  This picture is of the Greta in Keswick where I went for a day or two to celebrate Connor's birthday.  We had a lovely meal out in a restaurant near the lake.  I took the train down to Penrith as I've done many times but for the first time I crossed the road from the station to the castle to while away the time before my bus arrived.  The castle is 500 years old but its remains though not extensive are in fine fettle and the park that surrounds it is a pleasant spot.

The other trip was with a bunch of chums to Northumberland not far from Hadrian's wall. I got a lift down, a train being out of the question thanks to Aslef.  We travelled down the A7 which is rightly signposted as the tourist route, for the countryside that you go through is simply lovely as are the small towns en route, especially in the fine sunny summer weather that pertained that day.  The weather continued to be summery throughout the weekend and had it not been for the gentle but chilly breeze I would have been tempted to expose more of my body.  A temptation my chums must be glad didn't arise.

The cultural round here in Edinburgh included a stage adaptation of Anna Karenina which was admirably devised and performed.  Not for the first time an adaptation of a classic novel caused me to declare (inwardly) that I must read the book.  Alas I never will.

I also saw a friend perform in Alan Ayckbourn's How The Other Half Loves.  Like other works of his the staging presents two interiors simultaneously and the characters pop in and out of them both as the plot builds.  It must be a nightmare to direct and to perform in.  The farcical plot concerns infidelity, real and imagined.  It's an old play (1969) so some of the comedy and attitudes strike an odd note to us now but for me at least it was very enjoyable.

I've been doing some acting myself.  Rehearsals have started for Claire's play about mental health which the Grads are doing in the Fringe.  Called crackers (lower case is de rigeur in certain circles) it promises to be fun to do.  Also fun to do is patient simulation.  I did some last year for Napier University's School of Health and Social Care and am doing so again.  The first one was online when three sets of physiotherapy students had a go at dealing with my bad back.  For the second I went out to their Sighthill campus to reprise my role as the long-suffering father of an obstreporous 40 year old with cerebral palsy who can't stand being in a wheelchair, won't cooperate with health professionals and wants to be out on the razzle dazzle as often as she can.  The third scenario I have yet to learn about.

The RSNO finished off their season with Verdi's Requiem.  It was big; about a hundred players and a choir of about two hundred plus four soloists and of course a conductor squeezed onto the Usher Hall stage.  They made gorgeously loud and tuneful noise when required to do so and equally gorgeous but hardly perceptible sounds when that's what Verdi wanted. 

The SNJO  presented an amazing concert.  My attention was drawn to it by the fact that it was billed as incorporating taiko drummers.  Now that's a form of Japanese drumming that I had seen years ago in Leith Theatre during the International Festival and of course I'd just come back from Japan so I was looking forward to it.

I expected that, as when I'd heard the drums in Leith theatre, it would be a visiting group of Japanese drummers.  No such thing.  There's a centre of taiko drumming in Lanarkshire run by a couple who lived in Japan 30 years ago and studied the style with a Japanese master.  They teach taiko at their centre and in Edinburgh and Glasgow.  What's more they've toured the world including Japan.  What's even more is that Tommy Smith came across them 10 years ago and wrote a suite called World of the Gods incorporating them and the gig I went to was a reprise of the performance they gave then.  The suite has 10 movements, each representing one of the many Shinto gods, from the Goddess of the Sun (Amaterasu) to the God of the Moon (Tsukiyomi).  The music was gorgeous and the drumming was brilliant. 

I'd never heard of them or of Tommy's composition but then until today I'd never heard of the National Robotarium which is a 45 minute bus ride from my door.

Claire hosted a Murder Mystery evening which was a very enjoyable social gathering but it remains a mystery to me how anyone could devine who was the guilty party from the operation of the MM kit.  Now with Cluedo the amateur sleuth has a chance.

Thanks to my incredibly cheap Eurosport subscription I've enjoyed quite a number of cracking matches at the French Open Tennis Championships.  Gael Monfils in what I believe may be his final year on the tour was 4-0 down in the 5th set of his first round match and was wracked with cramp.  Hardly able to walk he pulled it back to win 7-5.  You can see the final 10 minutes os so here. 

Other great matches were Rudd versus Rune in a semi-final, Swiatek versus Haddad Maia and Muchova versus Sabalenka in the ladies' semi-finals and Muchova versus Swiatek in the ladies' final.  That latter match is often a bit tame but this one was thrilling.  It was no baseline to baseline slogging match but one in which both players displayed a great variety and skill.  They were pretty evenly matched but Swiatek got there in the end.

The tram extension to Newhaven opened to paying passengers (and to non-payers like me) last week and I hopped onto a tram at Haymarket on my way back from a Napier simulation, took it all the way to the end of the line and back to my stop at McDonald Road. I thought the line would go to Newhaven Harbour but it stops 20 minutes walk short of that which I found slightly disappointing and can't understand.  There's plenty room surely by the harbour and it's an obvious spot.

Lots of interesting stuff has been uncovered during the tram construction.  Perhaps none as interesting as the big wheels in this photo.  They were an essential part of the mechanism that ran Edinburgh's cable operated tram system which was introduced in 1888.  The wheels are mounted a stones throw away from where they were found.  That spot was known as the Pilrig Muddle because it was here that Leith's electric tram system met Edinburgh's cable system and passengers had to disembark to move from one to the other up until the 1920s.

The wheels are mounted in Iona Street with which I have a connection of sorts quite apart from the fact that I live just up the road from it.
 
For most of my life I believed that my roots were Irish on both sides.  But when doing a bit of research to see if I could get myself an Irish passport I found that my maternal grandfather and his antecedents were Scottish at least from the late 18th century.  They may well have been Irish before that of course.  My maternal grandmother I knew was Scottish and worked as a domestic servant/nanny in Edinburgh where she met and married my maternal grandfather.  There were various other relatives in Edinburgh.  My aunt would talk about someone who "married up" and lived in Morningside.  But in Iona Street lived two ladies who I think must have been my great aunts or some sort of removed cousins.  I can only remember once visiting them.  I think I was still at primary school at the time.  I must have a shot at finding them sometime.

This cheeky little girl features in a photographic exhibition I went to in Glasgow the other day.  I had an Italian lunch and a glass or two with Andrew, after which we went out to Kelvingrove.  The exhibition is of photographs illustrating Glasgow life from the late 50s to the 90s.  They were taken by an amateur photographer called Eric Watt and were well worth the visit.  My next visit to Kelvingrove will undoubtedly be to the V&A's Mary Quant exhibition which opened there yesterday and runs until October.

It's not the first exhibition I've been to since I returned to the land of litter and grafitti and other depressing things.  That was Dr. Who at the museum in Chambers Street.  I'm not a fan but I did watch it years ago, presumably with the kids.  For me the Doctor is Jon Pertwee which is odd since for much of his tenure I was in Nairobi.  Anyway I enjoyed the exhibition.

I very much enjoyed Scottish Ballet's A Streetcar Called Desire despite being a bit confused about which Tennessee Williams play it was drawn from.  I wasn't confused by the Coronation which was a fascinating sequel to the late Queen's funeral but not nearly so charged with feeling.  It was interesting enough but despite a nod here and there to other Christian denominations and to other religions it was fiercely even defiantly CofE to a degree that I found somewhat offensive and I'm an atheist.  My other thought was one of sympathy with the vast majority of the attendees in the abbey who cannot have seen much thanks to the geography of the building.

I'm a fan of large scale choral works so going to the SCO's performance of Brahms' A German Requiem made for a satisfying Friday evening.  Not so satisfying was my exposure to The Vintage Explosion at the Queen's Hall.  I'd chosen this to take advantage of a free ticket offered to me in return for miniscule services rendered to the venue.  Not being used to gigs of this kind I turned up for the advertised kick-off of 7.30 only to be treated to half an hour from a support band followed by half an hour of nothing before the main band deigned to appear.  They were very good but also very loud.  It was fun to hear some old rock and roll from the distant past but I'd had enough of it before the end of the first set so I went home.

By what I assume to have been an inadvertent coincidence the G7 nations gathered in Hiroshima in the same week in which the Grads performed Copenhagen by Michael Frayn which centres on the development of nuclear weapons and the moral responsibilities of the scientists involved. In 1941 Werner Heisenberg, a German physicist working on their nuclear reactor programme visited his former mentor Neils Bohr in occupied Denmark.  Bohr was one of the fathers of nuclear physics who after fleeing Denmark worked on the project that ultimately destroyed Hiroshima.  The question is why did he visit.  Was it to warn Bohr of Germany's aims for him to pass it on?  Was it to try to find out from Bohr what the Allies were doing in the field of atomic research?  Was it to seek advice on how best to subvert the German atomic effort without being suspected?  Was it to let Bohr know that in Germany's embassy in Copenhagen there were sympathetic officials?

Those various possibilities are explored through the recollections of the now dead protagonists, Bohr, Heisenberg and Bohr's wife Margrethe.  Many of the scientific and technical points are complex but Frayn's text does much to make them understandable.  It seems that Margrethe played a significant role in turning Bohr's ideas into "plain language" during his career.

I thought the production worked well with competent performances that brought the characters to life and staging that helped move the action along.  It held my interest throughout.  The local critic gave it four stars. Cassandra that I am I'd rather Frayn had omitted the final happy ending coda and sent the audience home feeling miserable.

Litter and grafitti may have made me a tad miserable since coming home but my window-boxes are doing their bit in lifting my spirits with beautiful irises and azaleas in flower.  

 

This is by the quayside in Helsinki.  I spent time here between flights on my way home from Japan.  I got into town very early on the train that runs directly from the airport and takes about half an hour.  Like Berlin there were no barriers at either end.  They rely on peoples' good behaviour aided no doubt by hefty fines if you are found without a ticket.

When I got into town I set out to find the starting point of the hop on hop off city tour that I'd established would be running.  I found it after a few twists and turns and retracing of steps.  To my surprise, since this was an hour before the first departure of the day, there was a bus there with a driver in it.  He invited me to come aboard and wait in the warmth of his bus so I did.

He chatted and told me one mysterious story about a flat that was on sale for 6.2 million euros that he'd beaten down to 4.9.  It seems to me unlikely that a hop on hop off driver would be in the market for such a property so I must have missed some crucial element in the tale.

Then he powered up the public address and played various recordings that I judge had been made to educate the visitor and give him the opportunity to admire the history and achievements of the Finns.  Nokia wasn't mentioned.

Eventually the bus got going.  It was a good tour of what's an attractive and interesting city.  It whetted my appetite for a return to Helsinki sometime.

After that I pottered about.  I went down to the quayside where there were numerous tents selling arts and crafts and food and so on.

This is typical of the food stalls.  My eye was drawn to the offer of a reindeer hotdog so I had one.  I don't actually like ordinary hotdogs and this was no better tasting but it makes a memorable photo.

I then tried reindeer meatballs served with yummy potatoes and veggies.  They were much tastier but reindeer tasted much like any other meatball I've eaten.  The so-called meatballs were flat by the way.  I'd have called them patties or something, though even then they were oblong rather than round.  No doubt there's a Finnish word that describes them properly.  

Although the sun was shining there was a snell breeze coming off the Baltic so I didn't linger too long but beat a retreat to the airport.

A detail from the very imposing railway station entrance

Also imposing are the escalators and lifts at the airport station

A little postscript about Japan.  A week after I left there was an earthquake whose epicentre was some miles from Kanazawa but in the same prefecture.  The railway line between Kanazawa and Nagano which I'd travelled over a number of times was closed for a time while they checked it out.   My sources tell me that tremors were felt in Kanazawa though no damage seems to have been done.  I confess to being a little disappointed that I wasm't there to experience it.  Maybe next time.

 Finally Scottish seafood hits Japan, more specifically mackerel.

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When I got back from Tokyo I went pretty well straight from the station to my class so was somewhat peckish after my lesson and went directly to a yakitori restaurant in this charming little street.  Although it's only a stone's throw from the language school I'd never been in it before.  The little stream is I believe the gentrified remains of the river that was once used to bring merchandise and people from Kanazawa port to the castle.

Yakitori are the kebab like things at the top of the picture and the mat under my plate illustrates the huge variety available from chicken's neck to pig's foot.  As you see they also serve chips which are good to fill up on and easy to handle with chopsticks.

The following day I took a trip into the mountains to the village of Shirakawa-go.  That's it behind me.  It's a Unesco World Heritage site because of the historic architecture of its houses, or of most of them.  They have steeply pitched thatched roofs as you can see in the couple of pictures below.

In the tourist literature it's at its most picturesque in winter when it's metres deep in snow.  For an afternoon's visit that's probably better than the persistent drizzle I experienced but not to live in I'm sure.

The one bright spot about the rain was that it gave me the opportunity to use Kanazawa's brolly sharing system as I mentioned in an earlier post.

Did I also mention that Keita my AirB&B man is a saxophonist?  He was excited to hear that I was too.  It was clearly evidence of an affinity.  We went out to dinner together again in my last week.  This time with a friend of his who was visiting from Kumamoto which is quite far away to the south.  She is also in the AirB&B business but on a larger scale.

As chance would have it we went to a yakitori restaurant so I had that experience twice that week.  This one was in Higashi-Chaya which is one of the historic areas of Kanazawa.  Kasumi was appropriately dressed in a kimono.

In that last picture she's showing me photos of the devastation her house suffered in an earthquake in 2016.  270 people were killed in that earthquake, the thought of which might put me off visiting her next time I'm in Japan.

I've reached a stage in life when I'm quite happy to go home after dinner out but Keita likes to keep the evening going so we went to a bar in the same neck of the woods.  This was a take off your shoes and sit on the floor type of place but with a very comforting twist.  We sat at the counter where we were able to dangle our legs into, as it were, a heated trench.  Very welcome on a chilly evening.

The barman had been to Edinburgh and proudly showed me pictures of the Royal Mile on his phone.  I drank plum wine which I'd previously tasted when I went to a sake place in Nagano.  It's sweet and yummy.  The yakitori place doesn't handle puddings so this was just the thing.

Kanazawa is a seaport but doesn't seem to be as closely linked to the port as Edinburgh is to Leith.  It is a bit further away from the city centre but in four weeks I'd never been there so on my penultimate day I got a bus to the cruise terminal.  This is a very new building.  It opened in 2020 and I'm told the cruise business has grown multifold since then.  The Queen Elizabeth called a couple of days before my visit to the port with 1700 or so passengers.

The more modest Heritage Adventurer with around 140 passengers was there when I went down.

The terminal itself is a pretty striking building and just like Ocean Terminal you can have a nice cup of coffee while watching the boats.

I then took a long walk around and about that included an unsuccessful attempt to visit a museum of mid to late 19th century mechanical dolls.  I arrived too late for the last entry before it closed.  Finally with the help of Google, notwithstanding my occasional stupidity, I got a bus back to town.

The following day was my last day in Japan.  I packed fairly effortlessly after breakfast and then set out with the intention of spending time in the Kenrokuen gardens and in the castle grounds.  In the event I wandered around the gardens till getting on for lunchtime and had no time for the castle.  The gardens are so lovely.  Over the weeks I've taken dozens of photographs but none of them really do the place justice.  Here are a couple taken on my last day.

Looking out from the garden over the city to the mountains

Now came the question of lunch.  I first thought I'd go back to the Jazz Spot Bokunen for a curry and some music but then I remembered the Grill Otsuka and the delicious smells that emanate from it. I'd been thwarted one way or another on the occasions I'd planned to try it. So I headed for it only to be thwarted again by the length of the queue or perhaps by my reluctance to hang about and find one dish after another struck from the menu as I had seen before.

I decided to try a place not far off that I'd enjoyed before.  Blow me, it was closed and this at lunchtime on a Friday and on the eve of the Golden Week holiday when the town was stowed out with visitors.  It doesn't make sense.

Well I cast around and found a delightful little place where I had a super lunch and a beer for about £7.

After lunch was my final class.

Teacher and pupil

 

Keita had offered to take me to the airport, something away above my expectations of an AirB&B host.  It seemed to me that he totally subscribed to what I believe was, or at least was said to be, its original ethos.  Not principally a business but a way of sharing experiences and making friends with strangers.

We set off with his chums Yuki and Masahito.  That turned out not to be as odd as I first thought.  Masahito is a wheelchair user which gave us a prime parking spot immediately outside the terminal building.

We stopped at a couple of beauty spots on the way, Keita being ever keen to show visitors the local treasures.  Personally I really just wanted to get there, go through security and wait for the flight.  I think he was a little disappointed by that and I'm sorry because he's a very nice guy and went out of his way to befriend me.

I got to Tokyo with not a lot of time for the transfer to my Helsinki flight with Japan Air.  As I headed for departures I observed a very long file of people at the tail of which stood rather forlornly an official holding a pole atop which a placard announced that this was the end of the line.   Being a fluent speaker of American English I realised she meant queue so I joined it, not without an anxious look at my watch.

Almost simultaneously a ground hostess asked where I was going, looked at my boarding card and led me off to another entrance where there were only three people between me and the security rollers.  Thank you very much.  So I had time to relax before the flight.

Thanks to having to avoid Russian airspace what was a long flight is now three hours longer and several hundred pounds more expensive.  They served an indifferent dinner, I semi watched bits of some films, listened to music and watched time tick slowly away.  I dozed rather more successfully than I usually do on flights and eventually it was breakfast time.

In a complete contrast to dinner breakfast was wonderful.  It's the only meal I've ever had where I was given an instruction leaflet on how to eat it.

Then it was Helsinki and that's another post.
   

On the Sunday morning I regularised my position with respect to the Tokyo underground system  by buying a day ticket.  I'd been led to believe that my Japan RailPass covered the Metro but the snapping closed of the ticket gates the previous day alerted me to the likelihood that it didn't.  I was able to push my way through the gates and the machine didn't gobble up my RailPass so there was no real incentive to present myself to the Fare Adjustment Counter which I should have done.  I just ploughed on. 

I forgive myself with the thought that my day ticket cost more than the journeys I used it for and indeed probably covered the previous day's two journeys as well. 

I used my newly acquired ticket to go to Ueno Park in company with innumerable residents of Tokyo.  It's a popular spot for flanerie and there's a zoo, a baseball pitch and various galleries and always something going on.  Like this procession

I don't know what it was in aid of but there were lots of people taking part and more than one of these religious palanquins.  I was puzzled at one point when the palanquin bearers stopped and rocked the thing about quite vigourously before moving on.  This website explains that it's so that the god inside can join in the festivities and have some fun.  There was a deal of singing and drumming and prancing about so the people were enjoying themselves even if we can't be entirely sure about the gods.

Kids played baseball.

Food was not neglected.

There was a queue at the stall boiling up this stuff.  I don't know what it is.  There was a banner at the stall proclaiming, according to Google's translation, "Giant Sky Pot" but that surely doesn't explain the contents.  

There was a lot more in the park that I could entertain or bore you with but I must move on. 

Before doing so let me sing Japan's praises in the matter of public toilets.  At home they are pretty much a relic of more munificient days for local authorities.  Many in Edinburgh have been sold off and are now restaurants or offices.  Not so in Japan.  In the park that I walked through every day in Kanazawa there were in fact two toilet blocks less than 200 yards apart. 

The toilets in Ueno Park seemed to me a particularly fine example of toilet architecture, externally at least. I didn't go in so can't vouch for the fittings.

One toilet I did go into back in Kanazawa had ready access to a little garden which seems a touch unusual but what a nice place to queue should all the urinals be in use.

Off I went to meet Momo for lunch and more tourist treats.

We'd arranged this time to meet at a restaurant.  I got there first and secured a place in the queue.  When Momo arrived and we got in it was one of those places where I had to take off my shoes and sit on the floor at a low table.  As a tip for other travellers it's a good idea to check your socks for holes when going out to eat.

You can see other people sitting at the sort of table I was at and in the background people sitting at what you might call western style tables.  Ishimura told me that restaurants have both styles since the over 70s are not expected to endure ground level eating.  I must look really young for my age.

I don't have a picture of the food but it was delicious, tempura chicken with soba in a broth plus various odds and ends.

We had a booking to go up the Tokyo Skytower at 5.30 but lots of time to stroll around Asakusa which is the part of the city we were in.  We went to the Sensoji temple which like the temple I went to in Nagano had a long shopping street between the outer and inner gates.  The place was mobbed.

En route to the inner sanctum, which we the public were not permitted to enter I performed various sacred rites like throwing money into a big chest, bowing my head, cleansing my hands and face (by mistake drinking some of the water - no bad karma I hope),  allowing smoke to waft over me, clapping my hands and so forth.  I bought a good fortune slip at one point by some random process that involved parting with more small coins.  Amongst other things it says "Then you will find happiness in future with the help of your seniors....". I fear this may be another reference to 84 year old Yuki.

In the grounds of the temple there were various grand statues and fine foliage and a performing monkey.  He ran up and down steps on his hands, jumped over various obstacles and did lots of stuff that you'd imagine was second nature to a monkey except that he did it on command.  Here he is doing the high jump.

Not something you could see in the UK these days.  He/she didn't look unhappy but I thought it odd that he/she never opened his/her mouth, as though it were glued shut.  

Leaving the temple area we headed for the Tokyo Skytree.

Passing on the way interesting street scenes and odd buildings like this one whose golden blob attracted the same sort of comments as were earned by the twirly bit on top of the St James Quarter hotel.

This notice also struck me as odd given that restaurants frequently have smoking areas as do train stations.  Some bars are completely smoke tolerant.  So why not the street?

My camera battery ran out just as we got to the Skytree so despite my protestations that my phone would suffice Momo hunted around until she found a place where she could rent a power pack and we headed for the entrance.

In a city of 40 million you can't expect to find many uncrowded spots and here it seemed as though everyone in Tokyo had come along to be hoisted 450 metres up into the sky.

It's a brilliant attraction and worth putting up with the crowds for.  The views are fantastic both in daylight and when the sun sets.  It was a little too misty to see Mount Fuji but we had good views over the city and out into Tokyo Bay.  Even with a boost to its battery my camera wasn't up to getting much detail as the light faded but my pictures provide me with a record.

Eventually we had to say goodbye.  Momo went off home and I went to my hotel.  It was a great pleasure to meet her in the flesh and she was, is, such a lovely person.  She gave so generously of her time over the weekend. On Sunday in particular, when as well as her company I had an eight hour Japanese lesson. That's right.  She didn't speak a word of English to me all weekend.

When I went to get the Metro home I had to buy a ticket because folks Tokyo has two underground systems and the one that I had to take from the Skytree station to Asakusa to then get the Metro was the other one, the Toei Subway.

The following morning I was briefly in the rush hour when I took a train to Tokyo Station to catch the Shinkansen back to Kanazawa for my final week but I didn't have to be pushed onto the commuter train though Ishimura swore that when he lived in Tokyo that was the order of the day.

The Kikyomon gate to the Imperial Palace in Tokyo.  Guided tours to part of the grounds of the palace start here.  You don't get into any of the buildings.  I had taken the train to Tokyo after class on the Friday afternoon and then overslept so I was too late to take the morning tour and I had a lunch date so I just pottered about outside and enjoyed people watching.

My lunch date was with Momo with whom I've been trying to speak Japanese via the internet for a couple of years.  I was very excited at the prospect.  We'd agreed to meet at Shibuya station but like many stations it's pretty big and has both overground and underground train services.  I couldn't find the exit A8 that she'd suggested we meet at for the very good reason that it's an exit to the Tokyo Metro bit of the station and I'd arrived there via Japan Rail.  Fortunately I'd given her my phone number so a couple of texts sorted it out and we met.

As we set off for lunch we paid a brief visit to Tokyo's equivalent of Greyfriars Bobby.  Hachiko spent years waiting at the station for his deceased master and thus earned himself a Wikipedia page.

I was also keen to see what's reckoned to be the world's busiest pedestrian crossings which are handily adjacent.  They've also got a Wikipedia page and now a pictorial entry in my blog.

 

Waiting for the green man

Off they go

Filling up nicely

The crowd swells

Still they come

Full up

Ready for the next lot

After that excitement we went up to the 12th floor of whatever building that was that I took the photos from, where the best monjayaki in Tokyo is said to be found.  Judging by the queue there may be some truth in that boast.  You are probably wondering what monjayaki is.  If I tell you it's similar to okonomiyaki you'll probably be none the wiser.  So here is a picture.

The mess sizzling on the hotplate is the monjayaki.  It's a delicious pancake mix full of your choice of ingredients.  I let Momo do the choosing and I don't remember what they were but it was all delicious.  As was the side dish that she's cutting up.  I'm afraid I don't even remember the name of that one. Okonomiyaki by the way is the same thing but with less liquid in the pancake batter.  It's delicious too. 

We had a nice chat over lunch, to the extent that I can chat in Japanese.  Then she had to go away to do some work and I was left to my own devices though with a couple of recommendations.

I wandered about the crowded Shibuya streets.  Not everyone was busy crossing roads.  A lot of girls dressed in what presumably is considered to be cute gear were handing out leaflets and engaging in conversation.  Advertising shows perhaps.  I took a couple of snaps.

 

Then I went to a slightly unusual park.  It's on top of a building and has a skateboard area, a football pitch, a climbing wall, grass and trees and a fine view of the railway lines below.  There was an "Earthday Creators Festival" going on, stalls selling this that and the other, including some very beautiful painted shoehorns.  There's a lot of taking off and putting on of shoes in Japan so there are many shoehorns about.  One in every hotel room for instance.  I was engaged by a couple of earnest schoolgirls who wanted to tell me (in excellent English) about some sustainable cotton t-shirts that could be carbon neutrally stamped with a photo of my choice.

Naturally I took a few snaps.

After tearing myself away from this jolly spot it started to get dark and I headed for Ginza which is an upmarket shopping and sluicing area. According to Wikipedia  "It is considered to be one of the most expensive, elegant, and luxurious city districts in the world."  An obvious place for me to spend some time.  I even did some shopping, a nice pink shirt from    

better known here as(but no more easily pronounced).

After my shopping of course I needed a coffee and went to the Shiseido Parlour Salon de Cafe, a very up-market spot where I had the cheapest up-market offering on their menu.

 Of the many beautiful shops I think I liked Dior best where I watched a girl and daddy (sugar or real who knows) leave the store accompanied by a sales person (I'm afraid I don't know what euphemism Dior employ to remove the hint of commerce from their sales people).  They got into their big black chauffeur driven BMW and were wished farewell with much bowing and scraping until their carriage vanished.

That was Saturday that was.