Not Crawley dahling! Turners Hill. Much posher

Very astute, puffin. Although it was a nice hotel nearer to Turners Hill than Crawley. But yes, she is looking for a Mr Big.

Yes the hotel looked very nice - but it was clear she expected the Savoy, the Ritz or the Connaught etc etc with all the whining about driving through South London The DM's choice clearly lacked the status she thought that she deserved

I can't believe she wouldn't pay for a room and chose to drive all that way back to Yorkshire at night. Then complains how tired she is.

Curious - because they're still trading under the name of Farmaround Organic...

http://www.farmaround.co.uk/index.php

Just checked their deliveries and if I order today I could have it delivered on Thursday - I'm almost tempted to try it!

Interesting quote from Isobel in the 19th January newletter:
That's not very loyal to her bezzie mate Lizard is it?

I had a rich boyfriend once (just the once). And you think, oh now this is going to be the life. But it isn't - He lived in Mayfair and he would think nothing of chucking 5k at the casino in a night, but we rarely went anywhere. And he was ****ing boring too. No conversation. So even if you do get a rich one, you don't necessarily get the fantastic lifestyle.

Isobel Davies is a 100% shareholder in Farmaround... Cow & Hen Nation (which had Jones as a co director) have ceased trading. Presumably, Isobel found out Jones is the epitome of a 'toxic brand' and hoofed her out. The 'Nations' were absorbed into 'Farmaround' but I have no idea what happened to the actual stock... but with net assets of £969, I woul;dn't be too confident...

It always seemed strange that Liz "vegan" Jones went into dairy farming

Morning all! Just seeen some pics from the Great Debate (Jonesey getting twatted by Burchill) and Our Liz is looking rough as guts! Face a sort of luminous orange with unmatching corned-beef leg accessories, half her nose seems to have collapsed (right side), her ears are now resting on her shoulders and, despite a comb-over, she seems to be losing her hair. She was drinking again too.

I suspect the reason Dscrace sends lovey-dovey texts is that she doesn't seem quite as frightful at a distance of over 250 miles, it's easy to pretend she's a bit normal and that the constant abuse and diminishment is somehow worth it. You can imagine him in his over-bright bathroom saying "come on Scracey, you can do it! Think of the money! Get her down the aisle and you can say goodbye to this ghastly life and lounge around in luxury for the rest of your days! Just bung her something swoonsome and keep her on the boil! Wait 'til you've got a ring on her finger then tell her who's boss!". The poor, deluded sap.

I think we all know about Isobel now... but I've been racking my brains about Dawn. I seem to remember that she was a rather odd stalkery type who wheedled her way into Jones's life. Anyone's memory better gthan mine?!

Whoever Dawn might be, she comes across as a bit of a drip.

CollieComber, I want to see the photos! Any link, please? I bet Julie B. tore into her, good! Surely the Dreary can't go on much longer? It's now just a repetitive joke masquerading as 'journalism'. A new low, even for the Mail group.

I'm not so sure it's that simple. She was "in love" with him when he was the "boy next door" but I'm not sure what he actually DID at that time bar have a ponytail and play squash with other girls. By the sounds of it she was just smitten with his looks and demeanour, in the way that young people are.

When he turned out to be a baker- and not just any baker, but a special baker for special dietary issue people! - I imagine she fantasised about how she thought that would be. That she would awake in the morning to the delicious scent of freshly-made bread, that they would live in love in an adorable floury bjiou pied a terre with conveniently blurred details, that they would drive to her country home on weekends and he'd just stand about looking picturesque after having done some chores, gushing occasionally about his love for her and the animals and the pristine beauty of her lawns.

It's the mind's montage sequence of an early crush, and the reality of a relationship NEVER lives up to the montage sequence, because actual humans and actual real-time activity is involved. Plus, Liz is hung up on labels and cost in a way that can only be described as nouveau riche. She's never got past the threadbare jodphur phase in life, so she's not secure enough to go, you know, budget, like actual life-long rich people are wont to do from time to time.

Just as SATC is completely unrealistic, and grew more so as the series progressed - Carrie can afford that whole apartment on a columnist's salary? In New York? Anywhere? I've been in a normal person's Manhattan apartment, Carrie's is a mansion by comparison, and the person I know had a flatmate. And those clothes, especially the later season ones? Those shoes? Suuuuure - Liz's ideas of how life should be are completely skewed.

Let's not forget that she did meet up with Dscrace in between.... in 2005 no less

http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1G1-137367589.html

Ugh I'm not giving them my bank account.... didn't someone cut and paste it somewhere upthread?

Here it is!

http://forums.digitalspy.co.uk/showp...postcount=1154

Linky, please.

She is such a liar!
I notice this article has been removed from the the fail website....

I'm sorry, Liz, I really really am sorry - and I'm an ex journalist myself so I know how it is ...but just read today's 'Dreary' and, I'm being ever so charitable now and I'me ever so understanding of all your problems, but - you have totally bloody LOST it! I defy anyone to make sense of your witterings in today's Dreary. I actually feel that the Mail on Sunday owes you a 'duty of care' or whatever the hell it's called, and the newspaper group should gently suggests you take a long, long sabbatical, perhaps involving yourself in basket weaving or designing papier maché buttery soft leather vegan organic cruelty free dry clean only knickers.

This ^^

This week it does seem a bit unhinged - plus the description of the midnight-sodding-storm barnet has resurfaced again. Of course I blame myself for reading this bilge - somehow I can't help myself - I need some sort of aversion therapy.

I got distracted from the randomness by Liz having the shocking breakthrough personal revelation that DScrace is a person, not a crush, and also by the "married in the same venue as Madonna" namedrop. Because two near-pensioners on second marriages, one of whom is running a struggling business, the other of whom has a massively over-leveraged property and, supposedly, no money, should have a fancy-schmancy wedding in a castle instead of something quiet and private at a registry office or local church of their choice.

I wish she'd stop suggesting she might NOT marry him. She's obviously going to, and to live whiningly ever after, unless he grows a spine.

This week's dreary is just bizaare. She has returned to ring to the baker - commonly regarded as the signal that the returner is breaking the engagement - he has obviously accepted that the engagement attempt was "a symbol of futility" yet she is still writing about where she wants her hen night

Is she in denial or having a breakdown?

She's finally flipped.

The diary is now a parody of a caricature of a facsimile of real life.