Harlaxton Manor. This is where I live, move, and just be. - by Rachel Neer

My “job,” if you will, is to be what the people in Student Affairs call a Roving Reporter. According to dictionary.com, to rove is to wander about without definite destination; move hither and thither at random, especially over a wide area. A reporter is one who creates an account or statement describing in detail an event, situation, or the like, usually as the result of observation, inquiry, etc. My job for this semester is to report back to you what it is like to travel on the weekends while I am at Harlaxton Manor.

This week is going to be a week just shy of travel to foreign places. As a matter of fact, this week started early on, when I began to see the things around me in a whole new light. Choir on Tuesday nights quite frequently sends me into a world all my own, which is probably not that hard to do. Stand in the Great Hall for an hour, and you see things that you never saw before and meet people that you never knew existed. The personalities that are introduced to me during choir out-shine my own, without a doubt. Prof. Sally Brown brings energy to the group that I don’t think would be found otherwise. The singing, laughter, and smiles that are shared with the group during choir are enough to boost the spirits of everyone. It is then that I see that what is here is amazing, incredible, and not able to be replaced with anything else in the world. It is the feeling that means something.

On Wednesday morning, we had a special British Studies lecture. We always have a lecture, but this one was about architecture and comparisons of two different houses that are very near and dear to my life at present. Harlaxton Manor, in which I live and move, was where I spent the morning. We learned about the school and what the rooms would have been used for when the house was actually a manor house back in the day. The British Studies faculty gave us free license to roam where we pleased, and so roam we did. We now know where [the faculty] lives and the nooks and crannies that may or may not have been there before. It was probably the most beneficial British Studies series that I have had…and the most fun. The concrete slab on the side of the grand entrance staircase makes an excellent slide, if you ever get the chance to make it in that direction. (But maybe you shouldn’t know that I said that…)

That afternoon we ventured over to Belvoir (pronounced beaver) Castle, where the Duke of Rutland still resides with his family today. We saw what that house was used for, and got a glimpse of what the rooms at Harlaxton would look like if they weren’t filled with tables, desks, chairs, whiteboards, and projection screens. A quick walk outside allowed us to catch a glimpse of Harlaxton Manor in the distance. In that moment, it was hard to realize that we would soon be leaving this place, some of us for Italy and some of us for good. Still, we embraced it…and all piled onto the coaches to come back to a warm meal and what would be a night of spur-of-the-moment fun.

Sometimes I think that we forget that we’re living here. It is a constant reminder that we are attending school here. There are always books to read. There is always a paper to write. There is always material to research. There is always a group meeting to attend or a presentation to listen to. Always, schoolwork is present…it is inevitable, even if you had a few too many in the Bistro the night before your psychology exam. Yes, school is inevitable here…but we live here. We have fun here. Wednesday night, have fun we did.

While sitting in the refectory sipping hot chocolate after dinner, Rachaelle (my roommate) and I were discussing what we were going to do before the talent show that started in about an hour and a half. She didn’t want to go back to get her things to work on, and I lacked the motivation to do any work…which led to an impromptu game of Sardines in the manor. A group of 10 of us hunted for Alex and Conor for a while before the talent show. The way Sardines works, if you don’t know, is like this: one person (in this case, two) hides and the rest of the group has to split up and go find them. When you find them, you stay where they are and wait for the others. Since the manor is so large and there are so many rooms, closets, and hidden spaces, this game is ideal. I didn’t find them, but some others did…after half an hour of running, searching, and just letting off energy in general it was time to go to the talent show.

The talent show offered just that: talent, and lots of it. There was singing (good singing, might I add!), dancing (which I have always wanted to do but never been able to do), piano playing (which I adored; I played piano for 8 years in my younger days), poem reciting (which I, of course, marveled at), and guitar music (I learned how to hold a guitar once…). This talent offered me an opportunity to perform one of my better talents: laughter. An Ode to Owen was written, and I sat in amusement as my British Studies professor turned the color of my cheeks when I come in from the cold weather in time for lecture in the morning.

Today is Thursday, and it has been a much slower day. Classes have carried on as usual, but several people have left to begin their weekend which begins on Thursday afternoon. I am here for a majority of the weekend, which makes it nice since I have two papers due at the beginning of the next week.

I haven’t been around the manor much on the weekends, but this is different. This weekend I will remain close to home, leaving only for a matter of hours to spend some time with my Meet-a-Family parents Ralph and Judith. I won’t rove this weekend, which means that I won’t be doing my job. Rather, I will stay here, close to home. My home is a playground. My home is much better than any other home, because the people that I share my home with make it that way. My home is where I learn, grow, and expand my knowledge of everything that I desire. I don’t have to wear shoes in my home and I can make any aspect of it a place to run, play, swing, and slide…which brings me to my last two points.

I am learning some things. Not everyone here is from Tennessee, which means that some people look at me when they see me without my shoes on. It’s okay; I’m used to it. What doesn’t kill you just makes you stronger, though, and if the only hard part about walking barefoot is the gravel between the manor and the carriage house, then I will go barefoot and keep flip-flops in my bag for the refectory because I wouldn’t go to a place with food without shoes. I never really realized how much of an issue this was until I went to SAO on Tuesday to ask a question, and Matt asked me where my shoes were. I couldn’t remember, which I see to be a bit of an issue…so from now on, I’m keeping close track of my shoes. 

I am also learning that children have a lot to teach me, and that acting like a child from time to time is one of the best things that I can do for myself. Hide-and-seek last night was the most fun that I have had in a long time and I hope that it happens again soon. I laughed and played, and remembered that I live here…I don’t just go to school here. I think that we should have a grown-up sized playground here at Harlaxton. I would go play on it every day. I think it’s healthy, to run and play and to just forget about life if only for a moment. Maybe all of the faculty will join us at some point…grown-ups need to have fun, too! A game of Clue is in the works. You can play with real people…it’s been done before.

Tonight I will be here, doing research or maybe watching a movie or playing a game with a small group of people after dinner. Or maybe, just maybe…I will slide down the staircase and hide in the secret passages and pretend that I’m a kid again; I will forget the papers that are due in a matter of days and the quiz Wednesday that is looming over my head, and I will have fun for a bit. That would probably be a wise life decision.