nyc/uk day 8: landing, a final entry

It is 17:28 GMT and so I have been awake for about 28 hours which is virtually unheard of for me. I am not known for non-sleeping. My head is completely fried but I am over the worst of the "I'M SO GONE LET ME SLEEP" and am waiting until later this evening before I get my head down. I have had the weirdest 28 hours because it doesn't really feel that long, I haven't really had a "night" in that time, and well as is usual when you're travelling, a lot got packed in.

Woke up. Bathed. Packed. Nearly broke my suitcase trying to pack it. Checked out. Chilled out in Central Park for a few hours in 36 degree celsius humidity, I find that nigh on painful and spent the entire time trying to distract myself with soduku again, and the thought of cool English air that was only a handful of hours away from me. Keely had her last pretzel. Walked back to collect our baggage, excited by the fact street harrassment for the most part would also be behind me. Got super shuttle to JFK, waved happily goodbye to an infinity of reckless drivers and car horn users, and trooped inside terminal 4 ready for our lovely air conditioned flight home.



A flight I found entirely weird because there were a lot of empty seats. One of our air hostesses looked like the spit of Scarlett Johansson (Keely will argue this but she DID) so that excited me because hello, major lady crush. Finally watched 127 Hours and tried and failed to get some shut eye. I listened to The End enough times for it to always remind me of that flight home from New York every time I hear it. Some cockney geezers were sat in a row near us and they nearly made me cry with glee, you'd think I'd been away from England and beautiful British accents for months on end. Hearing "Welcome to cattle class!" in cockney after a week of New Yorkers was like Sherlock drizzled with chocolate syrup and ice cream.

My back still hurts from that flight. I love flying as part of a holiday but I don't, if that makes any sense at all. It does. So arriving home at 7am has buggered me completely but I'm surviving on my return to an eternal stream of proper sugary tea (as my Scottish father always taught me how to make it, thus it is perfect) and remaining Hershey's.

I shall return to you, New York. I need to visit as many of your superb Arthouse Theaters, gallerys and see as many more shows as my tiny pocket can squeeze in. Thanks again.