John Soanes was born in 1971, with ten fingers and ten toes. This was also the year that the UK and Ireland currencies were officially decimalised. There may be a causal connection, or there may not. History will be the judge.

After leaving school, he went home and had his tea. Every day for a number of years. But after leaving school for the very last time, he went to college and studied Law, compounding this folly by going to Law School as well. By the end of this four-year period, John had decided that maybe Law wasn't the profession for him, and when he eventually summoned up the nerve to tell Law this, it turned out Law was kind of feeling the same way, and they parted amicably. They're still on good terms though, and John hears that Law's doing all right for itself, which is nice.

Putting his few possessions into a knotted and spotted handkerchief tied onto a stick, John moved to London, where he's held a number of day jobs; fortunately for the grey matter between Mr Soanes's ears, these jobs have proven to be involving enough to keep him interested and stimulated during the day, but not so mentally drained that he's too tired to write at the end of the day. Because, yes, from his mid-teens, John had found that he enjoyed arranging words on a page, especially if they were unusual words or in unusual sequences, or both, and that there were people willing to pay good money for his writing.

As well as writing, John spends his spare time reading, but it's not all indoorsy bookish stuff, as he's keen on running and trekking too, though he's probably happiest when sharing a cup of tea with his frankly-too-good-for-him-but-don't-let-on-it's-all-going-very-well-thanks wife.

He's not related to Sir John Soane after whom a Museum is named, but the similarity does come in handy when talking on the phone.

Like all who prize their crafthighly, John is more than willing to write for money, so do feel free to contact him about writing for you. Despite what you may have concluded from reading this potted biography, he can do more than write nonsense about himself in the third person, he can write nonsense or - at a push - pure sense about many subjects, and he's always willing to do so for payment. Though of course he sees writing as more than a job, it's a privilege. It's just that the bank prefer the mortgage to be paid in Sterling, and shops are less keen to exchange items for poems.