I was born in Ireland, a misty, indebted and quarellsome isle. My family found time, God knows how, to produce three generations of writers and poets. Our roots go back to a small estate deep in the Mountains of Mourne, near the Silent Valley, in County Down, Northern Ireland.
I went to school in Dublin, drank way too much, studied English and history, then business, then IT at Oxford University. While a student, I worked as a kitchen porter near the Bank of England, cleaning the plates of the rich and well connected.
A few years later I was announced into the main bar at the House of Commons, when they still did that sort of thing. I was in the company of a famous Chelsea supporter. The Champagne was flowing. What more can I say. After that I spent ten years working with major International banks and firms servicing them in the City of London, the creaking hub of world finance. Then I got fired for telling my boss, “What part of NO do you not understand.”