Las Vegas, NV

Oh happy day!! An email announcing 'You're coming home’ jumps out of my inbox. It’s not been doom and gloom having adventures in the sunshine with lovely people, but when it’s unexpected and compounds an already heavy schedule, well then it has its own stresses and strains.

However the news that we’re confirmed on a flight back tomorrow is welcome, despite the sun and fun. And of course, the weather forecast now suggests that the sun ain’t gonna shine anymore, so we face the possibility of another day staring at the four walls of an impersonal hotel. Fortunately drawing the curtains reveals a blue sky and having worked like a dog yesterday, I’m looking forward to spending the final day of this trip enjoying myself.

But first we have to return the car, driving a mile up the Strip to the Paris hotel where there’s a car rental return desk. After settling the bill we head for some brunch. The options in Paris have enormous queues being amongst the best in Vegas, so the somewhat cheaper options of Planet Hollywood next door seem like a better option. Until they arrive.

My burrito is the size of a small car and drenched in cheese and the ribs look like they’ve come from a dinosaur. Quite possibly, this is the most obscenely large meal I’ve ever had in America. The waitress asks if she can get us anything else and I ask for a wheelbarrow to get us out of here. She laughs, but more at my English accent than any real comprehension that we’ve just been served more food than some Indian villages see in a month.

Struggling through the mountain of food before us, we eventually give up and the next logical step is to head for the Nike store in the same complex and buy some trainers, promising ourselves that the minute we’re back in the UK we’ll be running marathons to shift the truck-load of saturated fat that’s just been delivered to our table. I have no idea whether I can even fit them in my baggage at this stage but hey, if I can stuff Cher memorabilia into my luggage then I can find room for a rather "awesome pair of sneakers", as the sales assistant describes them.

We carry our new purchases back into Paris and ride up the Eiffel Tower to get a great view of the strip. Charles, the lift attendant, gives us the running commentary telling us that it’s half actual size. One of our fellow lift passengers asks him if he’s seen the real thing. “Oh yes!” he replies. “I saw it on the Discovery Channel. I’ve got HDTV. Man, that thing is HUGE! You know, you gotta get HD. The screen I have makes everything look incredible, it’s a Sony K32CV…” he carries on. By the time we get to the top he’s given full spec and delivery details of the TV to his captive audience who seem far more interested in that than they ever were in the Eiffel Tower.

* make specified may not actually exist

After Paris we walk further up the Strip. The sun may be shining but the wind that’s rushing past us drops the temperature dramatically and I’m regretting my overly ambitious choice of shorts and t-shirt. The one day I’ve smothered myself head to toe in factor 40 that lasts 8 hours, I find myself wishing I was wearing a cardigan.

We reach the Venetian hotel, and cross the Bridge of Sighs by St Mark’s Square. It’s a pretty impressive facsimile and inside the second floor of the hotel sports an approximation of the Grand Canal complete with gondoliers, palazzos, ristorantes and painted fluffy clouds against a blue sky ceiling. A quick stroll and it’s time to go. These ridiculous sights have to be done, but most importantly we all need a bit of downtime so getting back to the hotel we head in separate directions.

I head out to the MGM Grand Pool complex; six different pools set in gardens. I opt for the river pool, a big swirling stream that weaves its way around, and jump in, swimming three circuits in the current to try and work off a bit of the burrito. While I’m drying myself off I get a Facebook message from Chong, an old work chum I haven’t seen in nine years due to him moving to New Zealand, telling me he’s in Las Vegas currently on a work conference. How very, very random.

I return to my room, pack for the flight home and then head back to the Venetian where he’s staying. We hook up and walk on to the Wynn hotel, one of the most expensive in Vegas and housed in a spectacular curved bronze edifice. Inside though is a frou frou concoction of peach chiffon drapes and fake fairy light gardens. I have a couple of drinks with Chong and his colleague and catch up on news from the past decade, but all too soon I have to get back to my hotel to see Jacqui and Duff and make final arrangements for our journey back to the UK.

It’s going to be a long journey home!