I have a visceral response to a memory of working-class life.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
I'm a working-class person, working with class.
My sympathies have always been for working-class people.
There are always moments of despair when you get close to jobs and lose them at the last second. It feels like getting punched in the stomach. You feel like, 'Why do I do this?' Then you go to bed, get up the next day and forget about it.
I come from a very working-class background.
Even though my work life is very intense, I make a conscious effort to be healthy.
With my writing, because I live it, I have to be consumed by it, and that means you have to forget your other life, which is constantly pulling you from your work.
When I retired from active duty, I still felt that I owed something to my community. That's why I pursued education... I still miss the classroom and recall those days fondly.
I find that I put my body in my work when I am at a particularly difficult or joyous point because I want to feel that moment.
I still consider myself working class. I know my circumstances have changed dramatically since I was growing up back in Birkenhead.
Class is something I know about. I've lived it every day of my life, and it shaped me in my identity.
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