Approaching the climax

It is the penultimate day of what has been a fabulous adventure and yet still the jet-lag persists.

The good thing is that it allows me to catch up with all the people that are in the UK at the end of the working day. I get some good news that a friend of mine, a young actor, who I’ve been mentoring, has got himself a very very nice first job after being signed by an agent.

It’s always nice to get other people’s good news.

Today is moving back from Osaka to Tokyo, and by now I’m an old hand at the bullet train game mixing with the commuters at a very busy Osaka station, but getting a very nice single seat by the window for the nearly 3 hour journey back to Tokyo.

I do a bit of napping. I do two episodes of something dreadful on Now television called The Swarm hoping the other six episodes will last me throughout the flight on Friday. I haven’t yet been tempted by the woman pushing the buffet cart up and down the aisle. She doesn’t seem to really want to stop and serve anybody, and probably just takes some delight from getting from one end of this very fast train to the other and back again as many times as she can during the journey.

Pulling into Tokyo seems like coming home in a strange sort of way. I know exactly where I am and where I’m going. Except that I don’t,

because yesterday I left my fully printed itinerary in my seat on the bullet train so now I’m having to refer to a small PDF copy I’ve downloaded to my phone. The good thing about this document is that everything I need is written in Japanese, so I show the taxi driver the name of my hotel. He responds, in perfect English, “Yes, I know that one”.

I’m not surprised that he does. The Park Hotel occupies the top nine floors of a 35 story Tokyo skyscraper. An express lift whisk you to reception on the 25th floor and hey - somebody must’ve read my blog because it’s barely 1:50 pm, and I get checked in and given a room key. No 3 pm check-in here.

The reception is a beautiful central atrium with many artworks and the corridors on each and every level are used as galleries. There’s a brilliant set of paintings on my floor which is the 33rd floor, as well

as phenomenal views out of my window. It seems that my lovely travel agents have saved the best surprise till last.

It takes about two minutes for me to open the case I managed to not open in Osaka and start spreading laundry, souvenirs and shopping all around me, ready to be sorted into some sort of order for getting back home.

Tomorrow I’m busy with three preordained activities, so today is actually my final afternoon to do any retail therapy. And I have something in mind.

Somebody has sent me some shopping suggestions this morning on WhatsApp but there is one particular shop I’d like to visit.

While we were filming The Full Monty last year we spent a lot of time in Manchester. Yes, it might not be a secret, but some of Sheffield is actually played by parts of Manchester.

A short walk from my hotel was a brilliant independent menswear shop called Oi olloi. I’ve picked up loads of items in there including quite a lot of Japanese network.

Sadly that shop has been taken over under the Sports Direct umbrella. The website for the moment has been closed down, and unless it’s some sort of two tone lycra tracksuit, it looks like there’s no chance of getting any original classy pieces just for the moment.

However, the main shop for Jackman, a particularly stylish brand of Japanese network is, of course in Tokyo. I’ve managed to locate it after walking into what looks like an office and I’m being shown to where the shop is. The shop is actually in its own little garden out in the suburbs. They only have so many pieces of each item in a particular size, but I spend a happy hour browsing and come out with a full bag. I walked down through this Tokyo suburb just to see life as it is on a Wednesday afternoon.

Getting the Metro here, I suddenly was overcome with hunger, not really having had anything since sitting in Osaka station this morning. Wherever you look in Japan, there are vending machines. On this particular platform, there is one for drinks and one for ice cream. I decide the better calorific value is the ice cream and I touch the Japanese equivalent of my Oyster card to the machine to get myself a salted caramel cornet. But it doesn’t seem to work, so I touch it again. More success and I hear the ice cream drop. Except that when I put my hand in to the dispenser, there are two of them. The train will be here in a minute and I’ve got a shopping bag, so I quickly peeled the paper off both ice creams, hold one in each hand and get on the train. I’m not sure what the commuters of Tokyo thought of a man in his mid 60s getting into the carriage, holding an ice cream in each hand and giving them alternate licks.

I did quite a bit of walking and eventually got the Metro back to the hotel. There’s been no shortage of walking on this holiday and I’m hoping that when I climb on the scales in the bathroom on my beautiful boat, I will find that for once I’ve come back from on holiday without having put on the pounds. It would be very beneficial. Particularly as my next holiday which is a week on the Amalfi Coast starts on Monday and will undoubtably befall of pasta

This hotel, like all the others has lots of little treats. Bath salts, flasks of iced water, purple yukatas (short, little dressing gowns, to you and me). Every time I put one on, I think I look rather cool and sexy, but in reality, I probably look like the bank manager who’s been hiding in the wardrobe after being caught with his mistress during a 1970’s stage sex farce.

So tonight, it’s a couple of alcohol free, ice cold beers, a face pack, a hot bath, room service, and prepare myself for a very full final day tomorrow