Wednesday 16th July - Oh the Irony as we Carry the Bikes Through Customs

With reckless abandonment we headed to the greasiest diner we could find where we devoured pancakes and bacon drowned in maple syrup and whipped butter. We had been so controlled up to this point that we figured we should go out in style. Like Michelin men we rolled out into the street and headed to MoMA where we were excited to see there was an exhibition on the modern dwelling. Our excitement, however, was soon thwarted when we realised it was previewing to members only and the staff barely even flickered as we tried the 'This is our last day in New York' line.

Undeterred, but a little disappointed we entered the gallery to see what else was on offer. I'm not normally that enthralled by modern art but their diverse collections soon sucked us in. The Dali retrospective was amazing and Typologies by Bernd and Hilla Becher had us engrossed in the industrial structures of mines and steel mills. We even had a laugh as we glared into a cabinet containing a Giro bike helmet.

Pleasantly surprised by the depth of our enjoyment at MoMA we headed off to Central Park with lunch from the Whole Foods Market. Sat on a mound amidst coworkers on their lunch break a pigeon flew head first into the tree in front of us. The thud was deafening and the resultant stars were obviously giving the bird a headache as people came over to have a look. Shortly after a girl flew past on a pair of roller blades with a friend running at speed behind. Obscured by the pigeon thumping tree we saw her bag fly out behind her as she eventually lost her balance and grazed along the path. With great decorum she got up and dusted herself off but the wheels came off and I wandered if she had made a resolve never to put them on again. At most I hoped she would be a bit more ginger on slopes. I felt like laughing with such mayhem around us but this would only have resulted in some sort of pain inflicting retribution which I quite frankly did not fancy.

Hoping we were on a roll of cultural delights we headed across the park to the Frick. 15 minutes after entering we left - call us heathens and sorry for not finding the eloquence to state this in a more educated manner but it bored us senseless.

We figured it was best not to try any more galleries and instead walked along Madison Avenue to see how the other half shopped. To Tim's great delight I bought a necklace and earrings from a street vendor for $30 - cheap date was flashing up in his eyes like neon dollar signs.

Eventually we headed back to the hotel where the bellboys tried their hardest to get us a taxi happy to take us and our boxed bikes to JFK smack bang in the middle of rush hour. After a few knock backs a guy eventually agreed on the proviso that we paid more than the standard $45 flat rate - blatant bribery - nonetheless we were happy to oblige.

The driver turned out to be a speed demon and before we knew it we were in Terminal 7 of JFK, where we were upgraded (thank you Tana) and got to enjoy the delights of the lounge and a meal before getting on the plane. I had every intention of sleeping but the flight was only five hours and before I knew it I had sat through numerous sitcoms and the lights were back on to serve us breakfast. Over the next week I would realise how bad a move this was as I endured jet lag which left me incapable of even forming sentences. I guess I had adjusted to the time difference of the West Coast and my body wasn't happy to readjust without a fight.

As we landed in Heathrow we met up again with Becci who had also been on the flight and headed through customs to meet my parents who promptly rounded on poor Becci demanding to know if Tim and I had any interesting news.... Tim and I were both agreed that after sleeping together in a glorified one man tent for the best part of three months whilst churning through the miles that we were ecstatic simply to still be talking to each other ;-) I would say that is good news.