"I think I have that disease where you can't experience happiness" confesses Liz Jones in this frank account of how she exchanged bijou Islington for rural Somerset.
As recorded in her columns, it wasn't only a divorce that triggered this move, but the purchase of a knackered ex-racehorse called Lizzie. Bidding adieu to metropolitan comforts, this life-long fashionista embraced the gloom of a Victorian farmhouse where even taking a shower was an act of bravery.
Non-animal lovers will shudder at her new intimates – a semi-feral dog called Michael, "my new boyfriend", and a cat who sleeps under her armpit.
As she picks at the scab of her failed marriage, there are fresh revelations about an ex-husband, and his penchant for inter-racial porn and wealthy women.Reuse content