23rd July

1700 GMT:

Checked in. Bags not overweight despite my collection of dumbbells and igneous rock. George came to say goodbye. Bought me a very London tube map T-shirt to remember him by. Very good.

Aircraft was halfway down the runway when takeoff was aborted. A bit fell off the aircraft in-front, and landed in the middle of the runway.

Plane was fitted with a nosecam pointing straight down the runway, with the feed being shown on the main cabin screen. Consequently 454 people saw a Land Rover Discovery zoom off down the centre line, its sirens wooing, in widescreen.
It can’t have been serious as moments later we had another go. This time we were successful.

Decided to watch the The Pink Panther (starring Steve Martin) and Firewall (starring Harrison Ford and Paul Bettany).

They were both shit.

Pink Panther was flawed by Steve Martin’s unloveable performance as Clouseau. And a rubbish script. And poor direction.

Firewall was marred by a script devoid of any original thinking. Paul Bettany on English-baddie-autopilot, acted Harrison Ford off the screen before, presumably, picking up the cheque and buggering off home muttering “that should pay for the new patio”

Fell asleep for about 3hours which I was happy about. Although wasn’t happy about the old git in front who reclined his seat so far he nearly took my chin off.



16.00 Local time

Arrived at Narita. Thick heavy cloud and humid like a greenhouse in a garden centre.

Was met by SHANE employees, one of whom was assigned to me. Tomoko, a polite and petite Japanese woman of about 35.

Had been told to bring an overnight bag because my luggage was to be delivered a day later. Wasn’t happy that they failed to mention that I would also need a suit for the next days training.

Had to open my suitcase in the middle of arrivals, ferret about for my suit and shove it in the carrier bag alongside George’s tube T-shirt.

Tomoko and I ran like the clappers for the train. Knackered out. Fell asleep.

18.30

Arrived at apartment. Like Dallas’s flat in The 5th Element. Not enough room to swing a katsu curry in.

Still, it has aircon, TV, balcony and rooftops so close you could do a ninja style wire fight across them.

Am located in Akabane. Classic futuristic, neon heaven. Couldn’t stop smiling when I saw it. It’s exactly as I imagined it. Can’t wait for it to rain…then it will look like Blade Runner

Essentially Akabane is to Tokyo what Clapham is to London. In a parallel universe Alan Partridge might say “It’s the Japanese Clapham!”.

Or should that be Japham ?


21.00

Went into KFC and shouted “CRISPY STRIPS” in English. It worked.

Called in at an internet café manned by the Japanese Vicky Pollard. Didn’t speak a word of English. Had to call a man. The man spoke a few words. Booked a PC. Email kept reverting to Japanese script. Bah!

On the way back, lost my house. It’s such a rabbit warren round here.

Panicked a bit


21.40

Got home. Took my suit of out George’s t-shirt bag and realised that the water I had bought at Heathrow had leaked on the humbugs I had bought at Heathrow.

My suit was now covered in black oily stains.

Fortunately, the blotches were low down on the shirt, and soon realised a Simon Cowell-style trouser strategy should be employed to hide the shame.