At times I almost laughed out loud but found the book quite disturbing. Alison is such a real person inhabiting the very unreal world of the medium. This is easy and quick to read - but stays with you afterwards.
Travelling: the dank oily days after Christmas. The motorway, its wastes looping London: the margin's scrub-grass flaring orange in the lights, and the leaves of the poisoned shrubs striped yellow-green like a cantaloupe melon. Four o'clock: light sinking over the orbital road. Teatime in Enfield, night falling on Potters Bar.