Travels

I am off to New York tomorrow, and so spent today saying my goodbyes to London (not that I will be gone very long). Carolyn was kind enough to accompany me on a long walk down the river, crossing all of my favorite bridges and periodically squealing at just how spectacular this city is. It was so warm we left our coats at home and periodically sat down outside (mostly to eat food). We watched street preformers at Covent Garden, and I made a fool of myself at lush by putting what I thought were free samples in my mouth without reading the sign. There were these tablets to clean your teeth and the instructions were not too clear:

1. place tablet in mouth
(I put the tablet in my mouth)
2. grind tablet into powder between your teeth
(I bit several times till the tablet was completely crushed)
3. brush teeth
(I DON'T HAVE A TOOTHBRUSH)
4. Rinse mouth out well with water as it will create a foam
(NOW MY MOUTH IS RAPIDLY FILLING WITH FOAM AND I AM IN A SHOP)

I had to run out to the side walk while foam dribbled out the sides of my mouth and being oh so classy, spit repeatedly as into the street. Without water I had no way of expelling all the powder and periodically my mouth would foam up and I would have to spit again.

Most importantly, I visited the three new Picasso paintings at the Tate Modern, and said goodbye to a few of my favorites that I often visit. Now I am as ready as I could possibly be for my trip, but I am still terrified. I don't know what's so scary about it honestly, but I have absolutely no clue what to expect of anything and I think that is what makes me so nervous. I watered Mitchel and unplugged everything in my room.

This is me, interacting

Of late my life has consisted 97% of revising in my room wearing all my jumpers and avoiding direct sunlight. The other 3% is split between ingesting caffein and eating cake. So to everyone who has been checking my blog daily just hoping I would grace the internet with another awkward story of adventure (this would be my mum), I apologize. Being ill has put me far behind in my course work, and with finals just around the corner I am beyond panicked.

But luckily, Tom had a birthday, giving me an excuse to leave my room and interact with society for a few hours this weekend.

My baby girl!

SOUP

It has recently come to my attention that the miller serves soup. How have I lived across the street from such a place for so many months and not known this?

All better!

In celebration of being completely better and off my antibiotics, I took myself shopping. This way I could fully appreciate standing up for extended periods of time and being outside. It feels like forever since I've just wondered around the city with my headphones, and it was amazing to be out in the almost-warm sunny weather. I am feeling like a real person again, and am so happy to be in London for the spring.

Since most my friends here are boys, and none of them are particularly willing to watch me prance around modeling my new clothes (an essential part of the shopping process) and since I am pretty sure my mum is the only one who reads this blog, I have pranced around in front of my computer, so you (mum) can ooo and ahhh at my pretty new dress instead.

Mitchell

To deal with the fact that I live alone in a tiny flat I decided to buy a cactus, which Dave has helped me name Mitchell.

The thing about a cactus is that it only needs to be watered once a month so 96% of the time I have to resist the urge to be nurturing and feel useless. Plus I recently remembered that one the way desert plants deal with a lack of water is by not opening their stoma for gas exchange very often, meaning the ten minutes I spend trying to donate carbon dioxide like a good cactus mum is just ten minutes of me talking to a cactus for no apparent reason. Still, I love my Mitchell and I love having something to come home to and to sit quietly with me while I memorize protein signaling cascades.

This is me, being just too american

Joey was kind enough to read over my essay for biology of aging. This has resulted in her siting on my bed, laughing at my computer screen exclaiming, "It's just so American!" and periodically singing the theme song to the OC. After all the progress I have made not sounding like a foreign ninny in conversation, apparently none of this has carried over into my writing. I am doomed.