Exploring Harlaxton: Part 1

Dear Readers,

I must apologize at how lax I have been in updating this blog.  Of late, I have been caught up in a whirlwind of activity, including adjusting to life in a splendid castle!  Even though Miss Rachel and I now fully know our route around said castle, it is no less exciting than it was the moment we first entered it.  The rooms tower and impress, and the grounds stretch forever, occasionally wild and unruly, at other times sculpted and picturesque.  The food... well, it usually underwhelms, but Miss Rachel is most grateful for the presence of a latte machine in the refectory, of which she has made good use.

Of course, Miss Rachel is often jetting off to classes.  She is taking a full fifteen hours' worth of credit (against which I heartily advised, as most pupils here take only twelve, but she insisted), which keeps her plenty busy.  We have only just returned from a weekend in London (more on this in a later post), and she must read an entire Shakespeare play and several essays of American Transcendentalist Ralph Waldo Emerson before this week's set of classes.

 

Here I am, reunited with my good friend Dean Winchester at Heathrow International Airport.  He arrived a few hours after I composed my last post.

Miss Rachel has a great many friends here at Harlaxton.  She has also made a great many new ones already.  Most people here seem quite friendly.

The magnificent ceiling here at Harlaxton.

I do have some unfortunate news which I have, until this moment, held off from you, my devoted readers.  It seems that, unbeknown to me, Mister Sylar was also invited on this trip.  He evidently rode comfortably in the backpack pocket all the way over there--a stowaway?  Miss Rachel refuses to tell me exactly whether she intended to bring him along, and Sylar certainly cannot be taken at his word.  At any rate, I am forced into his unfortunate company.  Note the dismayed look on my face in the below photographs:

Oh well.  I shall not let his unfortunate presence hinder my happiness here, nor that of Miss Rachel.

Until next time,

Doctor Mohinder Suresh

Heathrow at Long Last

Well, readers, we have safely arrived in Heathrow after an incredibly long day of travel.  Miss Rachel is beyond tuckered out, but is not in any particular position to fall asleep, what with her having to keep vigil over her belongings.  I offered to take her place while she slept, of course, but for some reason she thinks I would be inadequate at watching the bags.  Nevertheless, she managed to sleep for a few moments while I watched the baggage.

The flight to Chicago was short and uneventful.  On the flight from Chicago to Heathrow, Miss Rachel was offered some particularly unappetising airline food, upon which she forced herself to thrive throughout the flight's duration.  Landing in London was unbelievable--it was pitch black out, and the lights twinkled merrily up at us.  Now that we are here, we must wait for the other students to arrive, and we will all head out for Harlaxton at 10:45 here (which is over six hours from now!)  Wish me luck.

The Night Before

Well, my dearest concerned comrades, I am afraid that the time is nearly upon us.  This very night, Miss Rachel departs for St. Louis, from which she will depart for Chicago, from which she will depart for London.  She appears to be ready, if a little apprehensive, for the long trip ahead of her.

I am happy to report that it seems I have made the guest list, after all.  I write this now after having slipped out of Miss Rachel's backpack side pocket.  No sign of Mister Sylar as yet, so let us please hope that he has been left far behind and will not plague our travels.  I will report again when we are safely arrived in England.

Your stuffing-filled friend,
Doctor Mohinder Suresh