By: Jacob Harris
There’s no need to worry about being late for a class in the manor; we are awakened every morning by a bell that hangs from Harlaxton’s highest tower! At the insistence of this Victorian gong, we rolled out of bed this morning and navigated our way through Harlaxton’s endless corridors to breakfast. When everyone had eaten their fill, it was time for class.
Professor Rutledge has his work cut out for him in keeping us from getting distracted by the beauty of our classroom! The paneled walls conceal secret passages and are adorned with several gorgeous paintings. The massive windows let light pour in from the gardens and offer us a view of the manor’s intricate gates. But more stunning, still, is the ceiling—a vast skyscape embellished with ivory dragons, gold detailing, and a brilliant chandelier.
After a lecture on the terms relevant to poetry and a group analysis of several poems, we were given free time for the rest of the day. The manor’s shuttle was busy that day, as people bussed into Grantham. Several groups went out exploring, while others were content to find a soft place to nap. I, sitting in a windowsill I may never find again, wrote this blog.