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1/2/2016 0 Comments

The library

​Someone is sitting in my place today. This pisses me off, greatly. It has put me in a bad mood, frankly. This will surely seep into my writing, so don’t be surprised if my tone is somewhat vitriolic. Also, I must stop chewing on apples, it only brings trouble. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy the security man doing his rounds. I quickly chuck the apple in my bag. I recall a previous occasion when I was caught eating here. I was devouring a massive scrambled egg baguette actually, the precariousness of which can only be appreciated if you too have attempted to do this secretly and in a confined space. On that particular occasion, the security man gave me a right lecture, his anger building to an crescendo as he went on about the importance of rules etc… Well to be fair, each study booth bears a concise notice at eye-level, blatently laying them down: ‘no mobile phones, no food, no drink allowed’. I have no excuse. I am ashamed. I am sorry. However, his somewhat melodramatic response to my little misdemeanour leads me to assume that he harbours a grudge, and sensing that I was some kind of bourgeois student he grasped the opportunity to vent his spleen. God help me, I can’t go through that again. But he hasn’t seen me, phew.
This episode prompts me to think about other occasions when I have flagrantly disregarded the rules. Hmmm, no, that’s about the worst thing Ive ever done. Really?..      
 
It is apparently the day they test the fire alarm. Apart from just nearly giving me a heart-attack, which I have dealt with, there is now a fault and the alarm keeps going off every few seconds. I know this because they’ve just been announced it over the tannoy: Well it’s too late, I have been disturbed. And all this talk of food has made me hungry, so I’m outta here, for now.  
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    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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