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There were times when I felt I had hit the bottom of the barrel. Then something would happen and I'd realise I still had a few feet of thick sludge and sediment to push through. Slowly drowning in sludge, unable to see a way out, however hard I tried. I stopped talking to friends and family. It wasn't that I did not want to talk to them, just that I had nothing new to say. I was depressed by my own voice, felt I was depressing everyone around me with my tales of woe, and just could not face yet another conversation about how matters were going from bad to worse.

I didn't celebrate my birthday that year. Nothing to celebrate. I was in my late thirties and effectively washed up. I watched my business fold around me owing to an unforeseen shift in the market; most of my clients published reference books on law, so when broadband hit the communications networks in the UK that was pretty much the end of that. None of my clients foresaw the impact that would bring. Suddenly, people had the information they needed with a search engine and pressing "Enter". There was no longer a need for books that would be months out of date by the time they were published.

I managed to keep one or two clients, but I was penalised for having a little work while on welfare benefits. Utterly unfair. I visited the job centre to sign on every other week, one of the oldest people there, surrounded by youngsters who seemed not remotely bothered about finding work while I was being pushed into finding a job as quickly as possible.

One day I sat before an assistant who was checking my job-finder's diary meticulously. At the next desk, a young couple, the woman heavily pregnant, was being assisted with applying for a new washing machine, all paid for by the welfare state. I came away from that place that day feeling angry, hurt, disillusioned and frustrated. I had worked for most of my adult life, had asked for very, very little from the state, and there I was struggling to survive, sinking deeper and deeper into debt, unable to feed myself properly, living on minimum benefits, while that couple was being helped to get a washing machine, for free, having contributed nothing. When I started out in life on my own at age 19, I didn't get a free washing machine; I used the laundromat, like most other young people starting out. At that moment, I felt as though the harder one worked, the less one received, while those who did nothing got all the help they needed. I felt incredibly bitter. Moreover,

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