See You Next Wednesday
Friday, March 6
 
Three, two, one, zero.

The plane goes at 06:45 so it will board at 06:15; so you need to be booked in by 05:15; which means getting there at 04:15; and add another hour to make sure they are not rushed and can take the time to check your luggage all the way through to London (otherwise you will have to pick it up at the domestic terminal and take it over to the international terminal in Sydney yourself). So 03:15 to 03:30 should be a good time to get to the airport.

Unless the airport doesn't open its doors until 4:45. (Big hugfulls of thanks to Emma-Jean for hanging around until then.)

Lift off, we have a lift off.

There were nine people in the twenty-one JAL Executive Class seats. I had three to myself but unfortunately you can't lift up the armrests and lie down in Executive Class. The seats can be adjusted in four different ways; no combination of which will support my head or prevent the footrest from sticking into the back of my calves.

Fortunately the comfort food was free.

Thirty-two minutes past the hour.

Now I am in Hotel Nikko Narita, where the toilet has a warning about the risk of an electric shock if you "splash water or hot water on the product".

I hope the cable on the desk labelled "Broadband Internet Access Cable" will deliver this to my blog... There we go. (Sorry, no photographs until I can get the battery charger out of my suitcase which has been checked all the way through to London.)
 
Comments:
Make sure you don't splash water or hot water on the product, Toff.
 
Yay! You've taken pictures! (Was that before or after you read the entire instruction manual?)

Hope you had a comfy night with no leg rest sticking in your calves. :)
 
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This may not sound like the snappiest line from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), but it evidently caught the imagination of John Landis, who has worked references to a mythical film of this name into most of his own movies - memorably as the grotty British skinflick watched by an assortment of lycanthropes and zombies in the climax of An American Werewolf in Paris [sic] (1981). Ghastly Beyond Belief, Neil Gaiman and Kim Newman

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