I woke up and thought: New York tomorrow. Tomorrow! Despite the organising, the hard work, the worries and anxiety and desperation for it all to be over, excitement popped in my chest. I love cities, and (after London) New York took the crown. I couldn’t wait to see it again. I loved the ridiculously tall skyscrapers, the steam that pouffed out from vents on the street, the glittery pretzel carts, the food. One day I’d visit it properly and do all the tourist things, but even just being there – walking to and from the conference centre, using the subway, seeing the skyline – was enough to make me feel part of Manhattan.
And I wasn’t the only one excited.
Bundled in PJs, slipper socks, slippers, a sweatshirt and a dressing gown, I wandered across my flat to open the curtains and looked at my phone. A message had come through at six a.m. from Jon.
Can’t wait to finally see you again tomorrow!
Best Christmas present ever 
He was so sweet.
Opening the curtains I saw that a small amount of the snow from the night before had settled, like someone had dusted icing sugar on the Victoria sponge that was London. The sky was full of thick white clouds and on the street below people were slip-sliding about on the frosty paths, their laughter drifting up to my ears.
I did a yawn at the window and padded back into the warmth, making a coffee, and pulling out my to-do list.
My eyes were soon drawn back to the window. The main thing on my list, the thing that really mattered, was getting everyone to New York, and getting them home again before Christmas (and not letting Girls of the World collapse on my watch). So if the UK was going to choose this year, out of all the years, to have a white Christmas, I could only hope nobody would let it snow until we were home.