I have a real bond now with the waitress at Roots. She's an actress too, and she's sad to see me go, as am I. I haven't tried the vegan tofu breakfast burrito yet so I go for that, with all the extras plus the vegan cheese. Not as nice as the previous ones if I'm honest, but I can tell myself I had a healthy breakfast. 

It's finally warming up and the good weather is set to continue for the whole week, proper spring finally arrives (just as I'm leaving). I take advantage of this beautiful sunny day to walk over Brooklyn bridge, trying my best not to bump into any of the many tourists making the crossing, and avoid the charging cyclists at the same time. I relish the characterfulness (auto-correct says such a word doesn't exist, but I think it should) of the old construction, Manhattan skyline, and the Statue of Liberty making an appearance through the suspension cables. 

I stroll the streets and my feet take me again to the World Trade Centre. I pop into the deli I've been in before for a generous buffet meal, before heading back to Brooklyn Bridge taking in the Manhattan skyline for one last time. 

I pack my bags, hoping they won't make a fuss at they airport over the small backpack I have in addition to the cabin-size trolley bag. I say good bye to Sigi the cat who loved nothing better than play hide and seek on the bed and chase plastic bags, and Hercules the dog who's been a true gentleman throughout (apart from that time when he spotted an unfamiliar cat in the garden and couldn't contain himself). They have both been charming. I say good bye to my gracious hosts Katrin and Peter who so kindly welcomed me into their home, and I say good bye to this lovely room that has been my home for three days. 

A young couple smooching on the bench in front of me on the subway, an old lady mumbling to herself, a man all wrapped up in himself listening to rap. The mother of a young teenage girl on crutches returns my smile and remarks how elegant my wallet chain looks. Why thank you. 

I get to the airport in plenty of time. Check-in is swift, no problem with my little back pack, security goes smoothly. It's curious how easy it is to leave the country while it takes so long to get in.

I've got plenty of time, get some chocolates, and that massage shop looks enticing. I treat myself to a 15min foot massage. I relax on the automatic massaging chair while awaiting my turn, eyes covered with my scarf, the chair pressing and squeezing and my back and shoulders. Bliss. I could just lie there forever. I reach for the earplugs... but hang on... where's my little back pack? The one that has my iPad and chargers and keys in it (and earplugs of course)?? Panic. I jolt off the massage chair, looking everywhere. Nothing. Someone must have nicked it while I was having an oblivious smile on my face. The shop keeper hasn't seen anything. 'Are you sure you had it with you?' Well, where else would it be? I check in the toilet, then back to the chocolate shop, and there it is, innocently waiting by the cashier. Oh dear. I need a massage!

Flight back is shorter, back winds. It's a night flight and I manage to get some sleep. As I go through Gatwick Airport and immigration I'm strangely proud of the way things work in the UK. Much more user friendly, or maybe it's simply the familiarity and I'm just happy to be back home. As we approach London Bridge the City suddenly seems so small compared with the concrete jungle that is New York. 

I would certainly revisit, such a down to earth vibrant place, stimulating and laid back in equal measure. But if/when I go again I'd probably want to do it for a little bit longer, and with someone to share the experience with. It's been a pleasure to share it with you.