ANDY MEEHAN was born in 1965 in East London. He attended the last remaining local boy’s grammar school, achieving 10 ‘O’ Levels, before it was turned into a mixed comprehensive, where girls and parties turned aside his academic focus (two rather unprepossessing ‘A’ Level grades in English and Geography), fatally undermining a frail resolution to be the first in his family to go to university.
Andy started work in 1983 with a firm of City financial professionals, finding quite some success and achieving a directorship at the age of 30. Around this time, however, Andy discovered that City bullshit bore hard upon his naturally low boredom threshold, reigniting his wider intellectual curiosity. He began to read voraciously: from Dostoevsky to Dawkins, Chaucer to Chomsky and Kant to Keats. He also began to immerse himself – as far City professional finance would allow – in other artistic and academic pursuits (classical music, art, history, religion, language), reaching sufficient general competence to cause him deep existential unrest.
Andy moved to Suffolk in 1993, which is about as far away from the people with whom he worked as it was possible to live and still commute daily. The two hour each-way train journey provided him tremendous scope to continue to goad his fundamental befuddlement at existence, as well as to attempt making some sense of it through various private writing projects (including a collection of variously competent poems, a verse drama dealing with the last of the Anglo Saxon kings (which, nearly completed, runs to four times the length of Hamlet) and a completed novel, The Damnation of Fist – A Tragedy).
Over the years Andy continued to leak interest in his professional career, spending evermore time attempting to solve the riddle of existence. (He is also a lifelong fan and season ticket holder at Tottenham Hotspur Football Club, which has not helped him at all in his travails). Recently, Andy’s long-tried toleration of bullshit finally gave way completely and he abandoned the City forever, dedicating himself to working out, once and for all, whatever it is that’s been bothering him all these years.
Andy is married to his wonderful and highly patient wife; they have two rumbustious and entertaining teenage boys (the eldest of whom has fulfilled a firm resolution to be the first in his family to go to university).
(Andy is fond (possibly over-fond) of parentheses)