The achingly beautiful but aggressively vegetarian (but otherwise friendly) girl sitting next to me had spent the whole trip mostly blankly looking at her TV screen (which might even have been turned off) and at one point had mixed some strange sweet-smelling concoction using hot water she’d gotten off a stewardess.

It was all scary enough to keep me silent for most of the flight, hoping she wouldn’t judge me for the chicken teriyaki dinner I’d had. (And… like… I’m not sure if chocolate is allowable if you’re vegan. Or biscuits. Or…. softdrinks). I helped her get her bag down, I hope that counted for something.

However, when she pulled up the shutters a little before we came in to land at Narita in Tokyo, I saw the unmistakable cone shape of Mt Fuji above the wing, outside the window, and got up, grabbed the camera out of the overhead compartment, and fired off a couple of shots.

Pretty girls intimidate me. But photography takes precedence. And you don’t get to see Mt Fuji like that every day.