Writing Class
  • Home
  • Autobiographies
  • Fiction
  • Poetry
  • Revolts & Revolutionaries
    • The Peterloo Massacre (1819) >
      • The masque of anarchy
    • The London Matchgirls' Strike (1888)
    • The Jarrow March (1936)
    • The Cradley Heath Women Chainmakers' Strike (1910)
    • The Tolpuddle Martyrs (1834)
    • The Luddites (1811-1816) >
      • Christmas Poems
      • Lord Byron's Speech (1811)
    • The Suffragettes - Black Friday (1910)
  • About
  • Home
  • Autobiographies
  • Fiction
  • Poetry
  • Revolts & Revolutionaries
    • The Peterloo Massacre (1819) >
      • The masque of anarchy
    • The London Matchgirls' Strike (1888)
    • The Jarrow March (1936)
    • The Cradley Heath Women Chainmakers' Strike (1910)
    • The Tolpuddle Martyrs (1834)
    • The Luddites (1811-1816) >
      • Christmas Poems
      • Lord Byron's Speech (1811)
    • The Suffragettes - Black Friday (1910)
  • About
Search by typing & pressing enter

YOUR CART

My blog

29/1/2016 0 Comments

The library

Today, I am in the University library.
I had to park in the street on a public road, so it’s a bit of a trek through campus to get to the library. At least I don’t have to run the gauntlet of homeless people, and the parking is free. I like this campus, it is asthetically pleasing. There’s lots of greenery: sports fields edged with trees and foliage. I did my undergraduate degree here. Then, any Tom, Dick or Harry could walk in the library, if they wanted. Now, there’s a turnstile at the entrance and you have to swipe a card to get in. I flash my alumni card at the librarian and I’m in, ready for some brain action. The place is virtually empty. She says they had their exams last week, so they’re all probably still in bed with a hangover. I think this is good. You literally can’t get a seat just before exams, so basically I have a choice of where to sit. I go for my favourite spot on the ground floor next to the windows. My view is grassy knoll and shrubs. I plug in all my appliances and get out my pack of snacking dates. It looks like I’m settled for the day. To get acclimatised I start reading a book about the rise of socialist fiction. This is what I like doing. I toy with the idea of becoming a Professor. People who know me will know I collect stuff. Maybe I should collect letters. There are the same study booths. Maybe I should have carved my name and the date into the woodwork. You know left my mark. I browse the library catalogue. I find my PhD. I did leave my mark.


0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    .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?


    Archives

    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.