The next day we get a couple of shinks back to Tokyo, which takes around five hours. In the evening we have one of our nicest meals of the holiday, then spoil it slightly by going for a drink in a gaijin rugby bar which charges extortionate prices for Asahi (possibly because you get it in pints).
This leaves me with 300¥, about £1.50. I wisely decide to spend it in the arcade playing Time Crisis 2. Luckily Dan still has some bucks - we find a bar and buy a bottle of wine, which is called "Marriage", weirdly.
Then it's Monday. It's time to do our arrival in reverse. I sleep for 30 minutes on the plane this time, and watch Transformers and Ratatouille. Dan, I discover late into the flight (he's sitting in the seat behind me), has been sick three times. Landing is delayed and as we enter the last (extra, and 13th) hour of the flight, I start to feel it too. What is it with final night holiday meals? This happened to me in Paris too. As the wheels finally touch down, I dash to the toilet, ignoring the stewardess who tries to stop me because the plane is still moving.
The tube journey from Heathrow into town is awful. The pair of us sit there with heads in hands. After saying a queazy goodbye to Dan as I change onto the Northern Line, I pick up a copy of Thelondonpaper and read an article about how today is the most miserable day of the year, according to psychologist Dr Cliff Arnall. I recognise Arnall's name - he's a charlatan, whose formulas The Guardian once called "corrosive, meaningless, empty, bogus nonsense that serve only to caricature and undermine science"- but against all the odds, this time, he appears to be right!
Luckily I have Tuesday off to recover. Then it's back to work.