In Full Flight

So it’s a big intrepid journey setting off for Tokyo and yet it looks like the hardest part is going to be getting to the bloody airport.

Mercifully I’ve always left home for flights too early. Something that can irritate but on this occasion it’s useful. The Elizabeth line has got the bank holiday Sunday blues. No trains. The DLR then decides to break down so it’s a schlepp across town in the jubilee line and the massively overpriced Heathrow express from Paddington. That’ll mean cutting down on the sushi.

The joy of terminal 3 at Heathrow is the Amex centurion lounge

and it’s my second time.I Iove it. Little booths to curl up in and the time to boarding flies by.

I have a seat at the front of premium economy with plenty of legroom which is great. Charm and a trendy french tracksuit didn’t cut it at check in for an upgrade and even playing him the trailer for The Full Monty only made him look me up and down and ask me if I’d ever been in “Star Trek”.

I’m glad I chose Japan airlines, though let’s face it, I would sooner have had a barium meal than choose British Airways. The journey is in preparation for what is to come. I can’t understand the announcements and the meal is a sort of collage involving lots of tubs of pickled cucumber, onions and a western salad. I think dessert is a shortbread biscuit but then later tubs of ice cream arrive and lemon cheesecake. At this point on BA they’re probably sharing a tiramisu between 40.
I manage several attempts at sleep but without any real success. Mr Small Japanese is a big twitcher.

More snacks and something with egg before we land which is 9am Uk time but late afternoon here in Tokyo

Immigration is highly organised. Fingerprints taken and my pre done qr code scanned and I am in. Now just wait for my bright new orange case and land of the rising sun, I am in you!

It’s a long drive to the hotel sharing the transfer with a Welsh couple. The wife is being constantly gaslighted by the husband

“I told you about how to do it”

“yes love”

She catches my eye as if to apologise for him. I smile knowingly as if to say “Yes, he’s a pompous welsh Twat”

They get out first at a far superior hotel to mine, but mine is much nicer. Backing onto a huge temple, it’s in a grid of little streets that look like a film set.

A quick check in and unpack to reveal no belt or deodorant in either bag. So we’re off on a successful little shopping exhibition as I come back with not only a belt, but a pack of alcohol free beer and some Pringles. It’s just strange to wander into the shops where there’s not a single word ou can understand on any of the goods, but everybody is terribly helpful and I’m sure that in Issey Miyake they’ll have good English too.

I add an umbrella to my shopping basket just in case the rain continues tomrorow. I have a four hour one to one guided tour of Tokyo tomorrow morning and dinner with some old friends tomrorow evening.

Till then. Sayonara.