The past week was a bit faster than usual for your cloud-bound correspondent. Flying halfway around the world and back again in just over a week, here's what I found.

LHR-LAX-LHR-ZRH-LHR-NRT-SYD-BKK-LHR: those were the letters that jumped off the page when my intrepid assistant Gaby handed me my week's itinerary last Monday. Any regular traveller would recognise that the second and third LHRs should have been deleted and the ZRH inserted just after the BKK. Even the less- seasoned flier would know that London-Los Angeles-London-Zurich- London-Tokyo-Sydney-Bangkok-London is pushing it (no matter where you're sitting on the plane), but a board meeting in Zurich demanded I return to Europe before embarking on my Pacific Rim runaround.

The first leg of my journey started in seat 1A on the early BA to LA.

I knew I was in for an irritating flight as soon as the canapes were placed in front of the gentleman across the aisle. My fellow passenger eventually decided on the prawn and roe concoction and popped it in his mouth. I normally wouldn't pay such close attention, but I was trying to peer out of his window to get a fix on our location and soon became transfixed when I noticed that he was incapable of eating with his mouth closed. Initially I dismissed the bad table manners as post-take-off nerves or a mild case of "upgrade excitement" but rapidly concluded that he was a "smacker" - the airborne adult equivalent of the screaming one-year-old.

Just as it's impossible to block out a wailing infant two rows behind you, it's equally challenging to cancel out a grown man who smacks through a five-course meal when he's within your immediate airspace. At first I tried staring at him with my best look of bewilderment. On several occasions I considered saying something and in the end had to resort to headphones to delete the sound of a pasty tongue disengaging from sticky gums.

By the time I reached Los Angeles I was in desperate need of a sugar hit, having been put off the afternoon scones and jam by my neighbour. I replenished my supplies by paying a visit to Sprinkles on Little Santa Monica in Beverly Hills. Launched in April, Sprinkles is a modernist cupcake emporium created by former Martha Stewart editor Page Marchese-Norman. Owned by Charles and Candace Nelson, the chocolate-brown, white and oak space trades in 20 varieties of cupcakes (coconut's my favourite) and is already establishing itself as a "must-give" brand. Where most cupcake emporiums have gone for twee interiors, Marchese-Norman devised a strict, orderly concept with the help of LA-based Austrian architect Andrea Lenardin Madden. Working with the best ingredients and a strong packaging concept, a national roll-out of Sprinkles can't be far off.

Back at LAX 24 hours later, and running very late for my flight to Heathrow, I only had time to grab a copy of the New Yorker and Martha Stewart Living from the newsstand. Since Martha's release, it's clear she's been spending her time under house arrest giving her editorial staff a hard time as the magazine has improved significantly. While climbing to our cruising altitude, I decided that I have to build a screened-in summer room something like the one Martha's team have created in her July issue.

Connecting to Zurich the following afternoon I managed to leave my Fay navy blazer on my Swiss flight and was quite convinced I'd never see it again. By the time I'd finished my board meeting the next morning, the jacket had been recovered and was waiting for me at terminal one. The lady at lost and found proudly told me that pretty much everything gets returned at Zurich airport.

Two hours later I was back at Heathrow, where I picked up Gaby for the Asian portion of my tour - and her first trip to Tokyo.

As ever, the city put on a good show. In Marunouchi I visited the flagship store for Darjeeling Days - the latest concept to come from the United Arrows retail group. Aimed squarely at the male FT reader who doesn't want fashion but does want an elegant, high-quality wardrobe, the concept is already going national across Japan. In Ginza I visited the atelier of Shigeru Takizawa, who's fast becoming Tokyo's most sought after bespoke tailor. In Shinjuku I marvelled at the new-ish Isetan men's store and decided it's the new global benchmark for menswear. Although I didn't need any new garments, I still managed to walk out with a summer trilby from the old-school Tokio Hat brand, eyeglasses from Four Nines and some crisp cotton Gunze briefs.

Remembering that this was also a cultural/social study for Gaby, I took her over to the main Isetan building and gave her a tour of the pinny and slipper section. There's been a proliferation of labels churning out housedresses, aprons, headkerchiefs and little felt booties, so everyone residing in Ebisu and Aoyama can pretend they're either living off the land in Norway (the Ogg brand has cornered this look) or raising chickens in the Piemonte region of Italy.

Escaping the 40°C heat of Tokyo, Sydney greeted us with sunny skies and a crisp 18°C. Still playing tour guide to Miss Gaby, I took her to visit the newest branch of my friend Bill Granger's collection of restaurants, Bills Woollahra, on the corner of Queen Street and Moncur. This latest branch has the added benefit of an entire courtyard filled with tables.

At the time of filing this copy, it's now somewhere between Wednesday and Thursday and I believe I'm on the Qantas QF1 to London. The reason I'm unsure is that there's barely an Australian crew member in sight.

The back of the aircraft seems to be manned by Thai crew and First and Business by English flight attendants. The experience doesn't feel very Qantas - more a set of disconnected people working on a 747-400 that's the flag carrier for a country they have no relationship with. No doubt there are some short-term cost-savings, but for me, who's been around the world in a week, I'd like to know exactly where I am and who I'm flying with. Qantas's finance department might be seeing an upside, but I'm only seeing brand erosion.

tyler.brule@ft.com