Today I saw a woman cyclist on Oxford Street texting while riding. Now I don't really wish her to run into a bus, but what will it take to knock some sense into her? On the sidewalks I am always dodging people texting while not looking where they are walking, but that's not really dangerous, unless they are headed towards a stairway. I've become a very artful dodger, but part of me thinks I should barrel ahead and stay the course.

Gord and I went to top up our phones for the last time and then we walked to Oxford Street on a mission to find a shower curtain. That's when I saw the aforementioned twit on the bicycle (I don't usually go in for name-calling, but I guess Bill Bryson's writing is starting to rub off on me). Marks & Spencer didn't have any shower curtains because Christmas has taken over the store. We did find one at trusty old John Lewis, however, and Gord used part of the gift card he received in the mail from our landlady (I really dislike that word, but landlord doesn't seem quite right either--lessor is the most gender neutral word, but also not to my liking). But back to the story. The woman-who-owns-the-flat-in-which-we-are-staying sent Gord a gift card to John Lewis/Waitrose to thank him for fixing the plugged sink and averting a call to a plumber. That was awfully thoughtful of her. We made our purchase, poked around the store for a while and stopped in at the cafe on the second floor where I got a cappuccino and Gord got a hot chocolate and a scone. Gord noticed when we arrived home that the cashier had charged us for two scones. Oh well.

I got yet another thank you for my blood donation, this time sent by Royal Mail in a letter with my official blood and transplant donor card and a nifty key ring. It's nice to feel appreciated, but each time they thank me I feel increasingly guilty knowing that I probably won't be able to give again and that only 7% of the population shares my blood type. If they thank me any more, I'll probably get on the next flight back to London just so I don't let them down.

We met Johanna Schwartz, a Skidmore alum, for dinner at Broderna Olssons Garlic & Shots in Soho. They bill themselves as "a kitchen full of garlic and a bar loaded with 101 shots." Every dish has garlic, including their desserts (which we didn't try). Johanna is a filmmaker (They Will Have to Kill Us First, 2015) and an interesting person in general. We had a good time talking for several hours about her next project, politics, living in London (she lived here for a year as a junior and then moved back permanently the day after graduation in 1996), and more. We left happy, warding off other pedestrians and vampires with our uber-garlicky breath.