You hurry out of the door, and back to the street, where you ponder what to do. There seems to be little of interest to the south (there is no way you can possibly tell this but it is the easiest cop-out way of telling you I haven't written a file for down there - the other option being to tell you that a large angry Glaswegian Monkey stands in your way and won't let you pass...), so you head northwards back down the road to the cafe where you think you can hear Hairy wailing about his hunger and need for biscuits.