Both quite restrained at breakfast, we’d leapt out of bed before 7 to beat the rush (and still had to queue a bit). I decided to treat myself to some baguette with butter and chocolate spread with my coffee, I’ll be living on dust and air when I get home to offset all this indulgence. Right now I’m just enjoying it and ignoring my waistline.

It only rains for half of the 20 minute walk to the station, we’ve got plenty of time so take shelter in the fish market for a bit. As tempting as it is to get a bag of sashimi for the journey, we press on and look for less smelly fare in the massive shopping area before we go through the barrier to the Shinkansen.

We love how organised the station and platforms are, none of the usual UK experience: “The train might be here, potentially when the timetable says it will be, and maybe on this platform, but seat reservations? Who knows! How could anyone know?! We might even just remove them all at the last minute, have a great journey!”

I knew we’d be travelling through the Japanese alps today, but didn’t think we’d actually get to see any of them. Passing through Itoigawa we could see distant snowy peaks on one side, and a choppy misty sea on the other, like Craighouse on the Isle of Jura, but more.

Suddenly I can smell food, glancing at my watch I see that it is indeed lunchtime, a shade after 12. One old guy just has a tray of thin pale sausages, they smell pretty good.

I gambled that there would be a trolley service so I wouldn’t need to drink warm beer, it’s practically required to have a couple on the train. £1.67 for a deliciously cold Sapporo, happy happy.

I’m not sure if my crisps are crab or beaver flavour (or both), Trix says they smell like cat food. She’s not totally wrong (but they taste great).

The 3 hours pass in a warm and pleasant haze, rain and clouds replaced by a bright blue sky.

Suddenly we’re in the swirling ordered chaos of Tokyo JR station, “blimey, I feel like a country bumpkin!”, Trix just laughs at me and steers the way to the Chujo line, the other end of which our hotel (and hopefully a ready room) awaits.

After the quiet low rise city of Kanazawa (our room was on the top floor of one of the tall buildings, floor 6), Shinjuku is just … bonkers. Lights, skyscrapers, music, people … people everywhere. We find the hotel and just looking up at the building makes us dizzy. The reception is on the 18th floor, our room is near the top, the 37th.

Floor to ceiling windows with a view all the way to the mountains beyond the basin where Tokyo nestles. We’re both a bit overwhelmed, and have a little sit down before venturing back out into the mayhem to find somewhere to sit and have a drink before today’s main event. 

Sumo! Not an actual match as it’s the wrong time of year, more of a family friendly exhibition sort of thing.

Before that we have a little snack and pick up some cats in shark costumes, as requested by Zoe (for friends kids, because…how could you not?)

We start off with a mini sumo wrestler meal (in reality they have two meals a day, but each one is 5,000 calories!), then after a funny warm up from the MC (and a geisha dance) we meet the opponents.

Both are retired, but only in the last year, and are late 20s to early 30s, probably a normal age for a sportsperson? Asanokuma looks exactly what you’d expect: big, fat and strong. He’s 160kg, but says he put on 40kg after retiring, very unusual! The other chap, Asanobori, is a mere 120kg, and it’s clear from all the extra skin flapping around that he’s lost what the other guy gained. There are no weight classes in Sumo, so being heavier is usually an advantage (unless you’re very quick and nimble).

The whole thing is very funny, helped along with plenty of beers (and ginger ales) and a lot of cheering and shouting. We’re talked through demonstrations of a few moves (both allowed and illegal), with the wrestlers playing up to the crowd, being silly and shit talking each other, WWF style.

Then 3 matches, over quickly but you really get an idea of how hard it is to stay on your feet, and to stay inside the tiny ring. They’re both sweating with the effort, which makes Trix even more horrified as their glistening bare buttocks are slapped repeatedly.

Both feeling happily weary we navigate our way back to the hotel on the underground, grateful that (apart from breakfast) we don’t have anything planned until 11am tomorrow.