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I live in a small basement flat in Muswell Hill, North London, England. My alarm is my Blackberry (set for 6:37) and I growl at it and furiously tap snooze before wearily rising at about 6:51 (note the number based OCD affliction). I set myself the target of being out of the house by 7:10 so spend two minutes in the shower, five minutes throwing on the most boring outfit I can produce out of my wardrobe, half a minute grabbing my manky tuna pittas out of the fridge, and eleven and a half minutes congratulating myself on setting a new world record in getting from bed to front door.If I have a function to attend that day (I’m not sure I’ve ever attended a function) then I might stop off at the ATM cashpoint in Muswell Hill Broadway. The machine fires numerous questions at me whilst still half asleep and I realise I’m its bitch as I take the short bus journey to Highgate Tube Station.I fight my way onto bus and ten minutes later onto the tube, numerous sardine and battery hen analogies flowing through my head as I do so. I arrive at work at 7:45 with intentions to work. By 9am I’m tapping away at book related stuff. Sometimes I get away with a whole morning of doing this (intertwined with answering emails and phonecalls). If so then I guiltily work like a japanese prisoner of war from 1pm to 4pm to try and make up for my mornings liberties.At 4pm I’ll either go home or go to the gym. If the former then I do various situps and press ups whilst watching pointless on tv. Relative workout done by 6pm I then wolf down a meal usually consisting of a mountain of chicken and a mountain of vegetables. This takes me til about 6:02pm and leaves me free to work away on my laptop in the lounge in front of the Tv until about 9pm. This work often consists of trying to spread the online word about the books rather than actually writing.At 10pm I’ll have a shower, make my manky tasteless tuna pittas, then climb into bed for an hour on youtube, often checking out the likes of Bill Burr and George Carlin. At about 11:15pm I power down the laptop and put a podcast (usually an old ricky gervais xfm one) on the sound system in my room. As I nod off to sleep most nights I reach over and flick the power switch to shut down the podcast when my brain is sufficiently deadened.My life seems quite boring, but increasingly my passion is my writing and the boredom comes only at weekends when stood in a local pub somewhere. Any spare time I get at weekends I then furiously try and write.
Frank Noon divides opinion. Whilst some say he’s a philosophical
genius, some say he’s a fanciful dreamer who deliberately courts
controversy with his anti-establishment views about the failings of
modern society.
Seemingly nearing the end of his life in politics, he reluctantly fronts an experimental inter-galactic government project late in the 21st century aimed at making life on an overpopulated Earth more sustainable. As he battles to gain control of a relative asylum, consisting of a cross section of the populous as much at odds with themselves as the situation, he unwittingly embarks on a life-changing journey of self discovery.
As they learn more about the project and its intentions how far-reaching might the consequences be for the future of humanity?
Seemingly nearing the end of his life in politics, he reluctantly fronts an experimental inter-galactic government project late in the 21st century aimed at making life on an overpopulated Earth more sustainable. As he battles to gain control of a relative asylum, consisting of a cross section of the populous as much at odds with themselves as the situation, he unwittingly embarks on a life-changing journey of self discovery.
As they learn more about the project and its intentions how far-reaching might the consequences be for the future of humanity?
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Genre - Political Fiction
Rating – PG
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