Well, I am now over the first three weeks of life in London, and so far there has been very little in the way of life threatening experiences. Sure there were some people that my parents were probably not keen on me meeting (cough.. Prostitute), but there have been many strangers to whom I have been very grateful; Rodger, whose cancer had gone into remission, and subsequently bought me flowers; Cindy and Sharlene, who I met at Cafe Rouge, and who bought me drinks (they were also willing to talk about domestic and international travel policy within the United States),; and finally Tony…. no… wait… he really was just creepy… Seriously, is there something that attracts weird foreigners between the ages of 20-50 to talk to me?

On to my classes this semester. I am absolutely in love with my seminar professor of International Security Studies. Daddy, before you freak out, let me tell you… He’s. From. Spain!!! Also, he wears green cableknit sweaters, and brown corduroy pants, so apart from dressing like Ainsley in 9th grade, he’s perfect! (Mother, he is pursuing his PhD in conflicts in Kosovo! What could be more romantic, right?) The chances are good that he’s probably already engaged or something.

The rest of my professors are less dreamy, although no less interesting, and I have made a base of wonderful friends in my classes. We are able to engage in liquid lunches (usually smoothies) and many hours in various libraries together. I have already become more familiar with the libraries on my three main campuses and the massive British Library (in which you are not allowed to actually check out books) than I have ever been with Schlow, Pattee or Paterno (I hear the last two are actually one library. Huh!)

But on a serious note, I have been very lucky to meet so many wonderful people, and they have all relayed to me just how fortunate I am that my parents have allowed and financed such a wonderful experience for me. I have nothing that I am more thankful for than a wonderful base that has encouraged me so far in my travels.

Happy birthdays to Mummy and David-cita, and I want to reflect on the wonderful life that my first puppy Max had.

To call him a dog hardly seems to do him justice, though inasmuch as he had four legs, a tail, and barked, I admit he was, to all outward appearances. But to those who knew him well, he was a perfect gentleman.

He was the best dog I could have ever known, and losing him, especially while away from home, has been incredibly painful. My love goes out to him, Lassie and Molly.

Love from London,

Claire

PS- I just accidentally signed off an email to Guy Carpenter today Bearbatronoid.

Location: Lambeth, London