I type this now in an (as yet) empty house somewhere in the suburbs of Tokyo. Stem those worried tears, for I am alive and (reasonably) well! I’ve been through many slight hardships during my perilous voyage, including sitting two seats away from a very quiet and polite Japanese man, only sleeping an hour in total and repeatedly missing a train stop because I was so involved in (sadly English) conversation with the house manager. Thankfully two flight attendants, one who looked and acted like Matt Lucas with a handlebar moustache and a woman who was so bloody jolly British that she probably wouldn’t have had much objection to the nickname ‘Top Totty’ (the voice in your head is the correct one), provided some comic relief during the hours of insomnia.
This isn’t (yet) a tourist travel blog, rather a record of my life for all you onlookers, but allow me to attempt to express just how enormous Tokyo is. While my simple country life makes this even more shocking, there is nevertheless far less sky than is visible in central Manhattan, and spread across a much wider area. There are also, bizarrely, great nets set up for driving ranges, which reach almost as high as the middling skyscrapers.
All that is really left now is to meet my housemates and try to force the conversation into Japanese whilst simultaneously making friends and finding out what they do for food in this bizarre city.