The Argumentative Reader might be inclined to question Hughesy’s use of the term sleeping in when you’re talking a 6:40 rise, but by that time, under normal circumstances at home I’m half way around the morning walk, after at least half an hour’s computer time.
Being on the western side of the building helps, of course, but having emerged from a deep sleep I raised the blinds to reveal distinctive snow on a distinctive shape veiled by a band of cloud half way up.
The deities, it seemed, hadn’t quite forgiven us.
So it was straight onto the Travelogue, followed by the regulation showers, then, once again, the Viking breakfast. I wasn’t looking for it, but when I noted tomato juice in the relevant area I scanned the surroundings for vodka and Tabasco, both of which were conspicuous by their absence. Two nights of Japanese banquet had Madam expressing a lack of desire for Japanese food, but that statement still didn't prevent a hearty breakfast that refused to go anywhere near the bacon and eggs end of the spectrum.
After breakfast, we piled the belongings back into The Red Suitcase, went down to check out, and once the luggage had been consigned to the cloak room, headed off to Kamakura. The day’s itinerary was centred around the Elvis Costello concert in the evening, but we weren’t going straight back to Tokyo, and we needed something to fill in the morning and early afternoon.