It was amazing to be in Japan. It’s sociologically extraordinary; there seems to be no poverty, homelessness; the work ethic is incredible, as is the collective rule-obeying. Where a roadside job is being undertaken, there are 10 workers for every metre of roadworks, and they operate like a cross between Doozers (the workers from Fraggle Rock) and the Beastie Boys in the video for Inter-Galactic.
The relentless politeness is great – being greeted enthusiastically with Asa-maassssssssssssss or asamasayyyyyyyyyy everywhere you go, and respectful bowing is lovely, although awkward to a Brit used to hostility and ignorance from all strangers back home, whether in the service industry or just random civilians.
It was also very touching to find such a residual friendliness from when my old TV show, Shakedown, used to broadcast in Japan – signing autographs and receiving gifts is always a warming experience, for the heart and the ego... but a little humbling next to the fuss made of the real WRC stars... like Sebastien, whose 5th World title was sealed right in front of me at the Stop Control of SS29. Under a rainbow and everything. Magical.
The games arcades are extraordinary – the cool kids hanging out with hairstyles and clothes of Manga-proportions, spending their Yen on getting their photos taken in a stylized booth, or playing incomprehensible strategy games with piles of interactive cards. We played Mario Karts, a drifting game and Rambo...
Anyway. Home now. Obsessed with a band called Department Of Eagles, and crushed by the workrate displayed on the brilliant Jerry Seinfeld documentary “Comedian” – must write more jokes, must write more jokes...
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I have just had my customary shave-over-a-bin (i use the clipper attachment of my old-skool electronic razor, which produces a stubbly look and a LOT of little bits of black hair, hence the bin rather than the sink), and am contemplating an attempt at sleep. Need to sleep, as filming starts tomorrow with something samurai and something else on the top of a tower... hence my now stubbly-rather-than-beardy face needs its duty sleep so I can look presentable for, um, presenting tomorrow. But sleep might prove elusive; I am in Sapporo Japan, in my hotel room on the 10th floor of a 21-storey hotel. I arrived yesterday afternoon, the flight to Tokyo was long and squashed, but I did sleep and watched Hancock and Incredible Hulk (both disappointing frankly, Smith and Roth should have known better, respectively) and then the flight from Tokyo to here nearly didn’t happen because of a thunderous torrential wind & rain storm... have eaten miso ramen for 4 out of 4 meals since then, did some raucous Karaoke last night (highlights were Fight For Your Right To Party – Beastie Boys, Enter Sandman – Metallica and When Doves Cry – Prince, there was plenty of near-tribal tambourine banging), spent a disorienting (this) afternoon in an enormous shop full of noise and toys and plasma screens and massage chairs and cameras and dangly phone accessories... and have managed to avoid napping too, all in preparation for being able to sleep properly and avoid debilitating jetlag. But it might not happen. I will stop worrying about it. The worry itself is enough to keep me awake. I have got BBC6 Music coming thru this laptop (not being disloyal to NME Radio, I do this to see what’s on their playlist, how the station sounds in comparison to us. Also, unfortunately, the NME Radio stream does buckle with annoying regularity... ) so that is soothingly familiar in an otherwise very alien environment. But I haven’t really engaged with my new book enough to rely on it to soothe me to sleep. Aaargh. If i keep typing this, maybe my hands will get so tired the rest of my body will follow... Maybe. Feeling a little wierd and isolated and introspective and vertiginous - not so much Lost In Translation, more like Being John Malkovich right now.
Anyway. How are you?

An extraordinary weekend. As a proper autumn evening draws in, i am lounging on a small bed in a the Officer’s Mess at RAF Marham. Alone, obviously... the officer must be away. Scared of protocol, i am listening to the new Gregory & the Hawk album quietly through this laptop (are officers allowed music in their rooms? Do i have to be worried about that cos i’m not in service?) and typing this. Leafy and green outside, but with the undercurrent of military readiness. Even the “Fire action” instructions on the back of the door are alarmingly different to the thousands i have seen on hotel room doors – here, the instructions are: 1 raise the alarm, shout for assistance 2 call fire service 3 attempt to fight the fire... ! That’s LITERALLY the opposite of what civilians are supposed to do. I am daunted and impressed. And hope there isn’t a fire. Anyway, I don’t have long in this bare and unluxurious room (i thought officer’s got the major perks) (and what is “bagging” anyway? There’s a sign hanging on the back of the door saying “no bagging required today” which i hope is like “do not disturb” rather than some daily initiation ritual) as there is a reception shortly to commemorate the end of the first day of the Richard Burns Memorial Rally, which i have just completed on my first ever attempt at co-driving.
If i am honest, i am feeling a little green around the gills; that is despite feeling very happy, exhilarated, proud, tired, and a little salty. I need a shower too, which again, unlike hotels, are not en suite but communal. Scared of having a shower in a soldier’s shower...

Back to the rally... I met my driver this morning for the first time, mild-mannered former Navy submarine chef John Ric Wood. (It is a coincidence that he too comes with military trappings). He has lovingly restored a Mitsu Evo 4, it has competed once before( at the Jim Clarke rally) and for this occasion it has been liveried in honour of Burns’s 90’s car. He has travelled with his crew of friends (Mark, Dave, Kris and Jason) from the Preston area, so for them this is the Deep South (and i thought i had gone way north). We are in Norfolk, near King’s Lynn. The rally is taking place on the wide airfield... unusually for this kind of club-level event, on an active airfield... so the thick layers of rubber at either end of the runway, that we are subtly augmenting, are from tornados and spitfires (do they still have spitfires?) on their weekly missions to the middle east.
So, I drove here alone, full of trepidation – was it a bad idea, wife very unhappy about it, should I have pulled out, what would happen, would I fail horribly – both at competitive navigation, and at bonding with the thousands of grass-roots rally fanatics in attendance? Would I be hurt in an accident? My last-minute cowardice was put at ease as soon as I met Ric and his friends ... and realised that the organisers really appreciated my involvement (and the list of names that had let them down is quite an illustrious one...)

And so to the rallying itself. After years of talking the talk, I finally had to um, sit the seat. I quickly found myself unself-consciously adopting mannerisms i have seen in countless co-drivers – watch-checking, time-card fastidiousness, driver guidance, nervous frowning, watchfulness... I was already settling into routines like clasping my watchstrap over the outside of the elastic wrist-cuff of my fire-proof suit... The experience in the car was fast, crazy... catching up and overtaking slower lower-seeded cars made it occasionally bumper to bumper combative like touring cars or rallycross, hard on the neck, sweaty, sickly woooooah too fast, too late braking, we hit that cone (is that allowed?)... we hit lots of cones, stop worrying about it... making illegible notes (to try and decipher later when i’m not doing 100mph – was that “cut” or “don’t cut”, “opens late” or “tightens late”, crucial stuff...) remembering to try and enjoy the moment, but also focusing on keeping up (and keeping breakfast down). Each stage came with a built-in hour-long recovery period back at our service area, where i could cool down and deep breathe. Ric is quick, and at the end of day 1 we are about 20th overall and 10th in class... considering there are competitors, and cars, of a wide variety of powers and prestige and skill (the rally is being led by Markko Martin and Robert Reid in a Subaru Impreza WRX2008...) i think that’s not bad. I am especially chuffed that, each time we attack a stage for the second time we are at least 20s quicker than the first blind pass – and that’s down to a mixture of confidence on Ric’s part and extra notes given by the co-driver (me) to maximise speed. And now i have to brave the showers to wash off the sweat and motorsportness of the day, remove my civilian mess in the Officer’s Mess. There is a champagne reception somewhere in a minute, and then a beery hog roast, then fireworks. I feel about 12 years old and, literally, giddy. At ease.

Dammit it's been a headlong dash this past month or so. Super-human efforts (like an all-night drive to Anglesey and back, in itself not *that* impressive... except it was sandwiched between two full days' work), petrolhead heaven (a 2-week stint showing off the new Focus RS at the London Motorshow) and, in non-car-related business, my first full month on NME Radio. As well as everything else. Stand-up. Breathing, sleeping, jumping. Not Edinburgh...
So... what's new? Listening to Royal Treatment Plant, Fleet Foxes, Death Cab For Cutie, new Weezer. Read Mister Pip (Lloyd Jones), Kill Your Friends (John Niven), You Don't Love Me Yet (Jonathan Lethem). Finished Guitar Hero III on Wii. Revived my carnivorous plants. Just got back from Finland, bag loaded with salt liquorice. Found out that the popular spirit "Salimiaki" (taken in shot form) is actually nothing more than salt liquorice dissolved in vodka. So i shall be bootlegging some of my own moonshine-salimiaki. There is another popular shot, called Fisu, which is a Fisherman's Friend dissolved in vodka... hoo-ha. I won't be replicating that one...

Today is the big day. And Tomorrow. Well, today is the big day because NME radio launches at 11am, and I am on it from 2pm with other djs... but tomorrow is the BIG day cos from 10am i fly solo on my new daily show. please drop in, here:NME RADIO