Actually, I've stood up for Liz on some matters. I've frequently wondered whether she's unwell, or conversely whether the whole thing is a parody and she and the Baker are sitting up chortling together as they create the Dreary together. I don't mock her physical appearance, I don't think that's fair or kind, and I don't think she looks all that bad. The worst I've ever said about her would be that I think she could do better with a softer haircolour shade.
But over time I've found that her column is not funny and quite cruel, repetitive and, if it genuinely is accurate, positively abusive to the people in her life.
Am I just like Liz? In some ways. I'm a little bit younger. I've always made my living working with words in some form or another. I don't have a husband to pay my way. I have a cat. I've lived in London. I have not had particularly long-lasting romantic relationships. I've travelled a bit. I can be tender hearted enough not to buy my cat meat that contains horse while simultaneously spending my money on some shoes made of leather.
But I don't think the world owes me. My family may drive me mad at times but I love them dearly and will not ever sell them out for profit. DItto my friends. Perhaps that's a failure on my part. Willingness to put them up for amusing scrutiny might have won me an international column. But I'd rather have a cordial relationship with them. And while I might poke fun at X and Y with my friends, or complain about Z, should that go public and a bunch of complete strangers start spouting their opinions on my loved ones, I'd feel the need to slaughter them all. Ultimately, I know the cost would be too dear. And I'm not talking about the unfortunate need to pay taxes either.
I am not as rich as Liz and nor am I bankrupt. I will have to work till I die, and that's just the way it is. If I could earn anything like what LIz supposedly earns, for ONE YEAR, I would be mortgage free and well set up for life. Now, if I had always earned the sort of money she earns, perhaps my eyes would be bigger than my stomach too and I'd be spending it all on castles instead of modest little flats. But by your late 50s, especially as an independent person, you surely, surely have learned to live within your means. HUGE means!
I wish LIz would embrace her alleged poverty instead of acting as if she is a victim. I'd LOVE to see Liz discover the FUN and savings of chain store brands, colouring her own hair etc etc. It would be fun, amusing, endearing. Liz like so many young women with little money discovering dupes of prestige brands, excitedly sharing that this cheapass hand cream is just as nice as her bliss softening socks and so much cheaper. You know, if Liz does not secretly really colour her hair out of a packet already, it would be fun to have her explore home colouring. She could get Nic to apply it. Or David. Because trying to do your own roots is pretty hard. They would try to work out how to follow the instructions and maybe try to make it like a salon at home. Liz could pour herself a prosecco while the Garnier (yes) does its work and look through some Vogues. And mock them. They could deal with the mess created in the bathroom. And laugh lots and lots and have a good time together.
I think the diary would be a lot more endearing and engaging if we saw them all having some fun. They must do. Surely. Sometimes.