I was born on a pig farm, brought up in a small village, educated at a comprehensive school made of melted-down Spitfires and came through adolescence without killing myself. I worked in a factory putting little boxes into big boxes, in a bookshop reading more than I sold and then in a company that coerced people into buying things they didn't really need. I found the perfect wife, bought the perfect house, fathered the perfect child and drove the perfect Porsche. I got sick, got better and decided that life was too short to grow old doing, essentially, bugger all. So I sold the perfect house and the perfect Porsche, uprooted the perfect wife and the perfect child (who being perfect didn't complain), relocated to Singapore and, after placing the perfect wife and the perfect child in workplace and school respectively, set off with a rucksack and notebook to explore Southeast Asia. I walked and bussed and trained and planed until I could walk and bus and train and plane no more. Then I took a house in Malaysia, inherited the world's most pathetic dog and set about writing it all down.