Spring-cleaning my hard-drive I found some notes for a novel i started to write back in 1995:

The narrator has just abandoned a successful city career with bold plans for a complete change to his life. After the initial euphoria of being a free agent, he realizes that he has no amibitions and no real values in his life. The lack of meaning depresses him to such an extent that combined with the change of pace he has something akin to a nervous breakdown. This is speeded on its way by copious alcohol and the story begins when he has spent nearly a month staring at his ceiling, sleeping when the alcohol overtook him and doing nothing.

About caspar

Caspar is just one monkey among billions. Battering his keyboard without expectations even of peanuts, let alone of aping the Immortal Bard. By day he is an infantologist at Birkbeck Babylab, by night he runs
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