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Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.

7/3/2016 0 Comments

School

I remember two of my primary school teachers in particular. One, although she never taught me because she left before I reached her class, was a nun. She wore the full black habit inclusive of veil, cross around neck and Rosary around waist. But she was no Audrey Hepburn in The Nun’s Story. No, this nun, poor woman, had personal issues: a hirsute top lip and shocking body odour. Now, I get this bearing our afflictions with fortitude so we can glorify in Jesus’ suffering type of attitude, but there is no grace in derision. Quite frankly she was bad PR for the sisterhood; being a nun wasn’t on my list of possible future careers. The other teacher I remember was a masochistic elderly Irish psychopath. She had a rasping, hard Northern-Irish accent that could put the fear of God into you. On Monday mornings she would interrogate each class member as to whether they had been to Church on Sunday, and if you hadn’t you had better have good reason. I believe she was responsible for creating many a bear-faced liar. She exulted in public humiliation and glorified in inflicting pain, making children stand on chairs for hours and smacking legs at the slightest opportunity. She also taught folk dancing for PE. So one minute she was belting your legs with the wrath of God and the next minute she was making them do the do-si-do and the Gay Gordons. This woman single-handedly nearly put me off God forever, and if there’s any justice in the afterlife I know where she’s going. A few years later, at secondary school, also Roman Catholic, our class made the RE teacher cry, and not in a good way. My friend and I were made to leave the class and sent to the library (appropriately) for insubordination. I did feel sorry for the teacher, though. He was a gentle soul, if somewhat of a drip, definitely not the fire and brimstone type like the aforementioned teacher. He wasn’t cut out for teaching in a secondary comprehensive, especially not with that subject which was rapidly going out of fashion. He eventually left. Years later I was to critique the Catholic faith in my MA dissertation at University. Who knew?

Here endeth this section
(God forgive me)



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    .Author

    I recently completed an academic research project (MPhil) about working-class women’s autobiographies. Now I’m writing my own...

    To cut a long story short:

    My dad and both my grandads were coal miners. I was born in Coalville. I belong on this website. 
    I returned to education as a mature student: got a couple of A-levels, went to university; got a BA, an MA, a PhD, and an MPhil. It was not as easy as that. It was not as quick as that. But I did.
    I have spent most of my adult-life studying something. Generally something to do with English literature: mainly something to do with working-class women. My MA is about Women and God – inspired by and emotively written through my experiences as a pupil at Catholic primary and secondary schools. My PhD and MPhil projects are about working-class women writers – inspired and emotively written through my experiences as a working-class woman in a materialistic and class-ridden society. When I was an undergraduate at university, there wasn’t a module about working-class writing. There just wasn't. I didn’t study any working-class texts. I just didn’t. I once gave a research paper about my PhD (ie: talking about my work) and I remember someone laughingly said, ‘Was there a recession in the 1980s? I must have missed that.’ That just about sums it up.
    I have had no working-class peers. I found them in my reading and writing. In my reading and writing I found myself.

    Welcome to my blog.
    It's basically about me.It’s called ‘My Travel Blog’ (because I’m time travelling through my memories of the past). See what I did there?


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