'So many things I've got to say, But there's not enough hours left in the day. Watch you sleep, feel your heat. Wonder if you'll kiss me, And intertwine your feet.' I wasn't going to go in to my lecture today, I was tired and it was raining and I woke up feeling naff. But I went in anyway because I hadn't been in for a Friday lecture in about 3 weeks. I'm glad I did though because it was so interesting. It was on the literature produced by the 19th century working class. I found out that a man called Thomas Cooper was in jail when he wrote his book/poem. It's called 'The purgatory of suicides' I think and is similar to Milton's paradise lost. But the amazing thing is that for the first 3 verses he had no writing equipment so it's claimed that he wrote it using only a feather and his own blood. Anyway, that is the most interesting thing that happened in my day. I'll leave you with a section of a poem by the Chartist movement... '...be peril in the path, be death upon the way, when liberty's the prize, what to the brave are they?'