I thought Sunday's Dreary was ludicrous, what with sixteen voyeuristic cats scoffing prawns on her cashmere duvet cover, blah, blah. Total bloody nutcase! But then I read her pity-fest about the Christmas/New Year period, which was at complete odds with the drivel she 'wrote' the previous week about not having to put up with obnoxious relatives and greasy plates at this time of year. And her crap tattoo must have shrunk as, in that shot of her in a bar or whatever, there're no hooves (paws) poking out of her tee-shirt sleeve. I agree her bedroom looks dire. I thought she was supposed to be at the cutting edge of all things wonderful and trendy, but it looks like some old biddy's parlour. Dreadful!
My mum had wallpaper like that back in 1965.
I don't think you get Farrow & Ball in rented houses. Liz must be so cross.
I bet the pic of her in the bar is probably one reused from some other farticle which accounts for no sighting of the crap tattoo.