I spent yesterday morning skulking around exhibits with a few friends, doing visual research at the Thackray Medical Museum in Leeds. Grimy reconstructions of Victorian life housed within a magnificent building which itself was an old workhouse. Managed to do a few sketches in the dim light like this one of Mary Holmes on her death bed being administered her last rites, that and the acrid artificial smells made me feel suitably depressed. Afterwards, we nipped across the road to cheer ourselves up at the spectacular Beckett Street Graveyard, where many of the workhouse 'inmates' were buried. A blue plate declares that the grave yard holds over 180,000 bodies. That's conjuring up images of mass pauper graves, bodies pilled one on top of the other. The sun came out and we caught the bus back into Leeds Town Centre.