This is The Guardian.
Today, a personal journey through the British class system.
Okay, so I am in sunny Royton in Oldham in Greater Manchester and I'm...
About to call in on Guardian writer Danny Lovell.
He's staying with his brother at the moment.
Blinds are drawn, but I hope he's remembered I'm coming.
You have remembered.
I was just worried that the blinds were shut.
Danny is 38 years old.
He's a published author and an award-winning freelance writer.
But he still can't afford his own place and is currently bouncing between his brother's council house and his mum's home.
There are a lot of contradictions in Danny's life.
He's hard to pigeonhole, especially when it comes to class,
a topic he's been obsessed with and confused by for as long as he can remember.
So, you know, my early years would have made me quite bourgeois.
And then, you know, my later life would have made me a proletarian, I suppose.
And now, obviously, I write books and I write for The Guardian, which is proper bougie, isn't it?
I felt like I was in class limbo, just not quite fitting in with any particular class.
Danny has been on a voyage of discovery to try to work out what class he is.
It always confused me.