Normal families were almost bankrupted simply to provide a roof over their heads.

down-at-heel,

But I know that I didn’t do great. None of my friends have to know about my solo eating orgy. We’re all entitled to have our secrets, aren’t we? This is what Marcus has reduced me to. I’ve done so well to control my binge-eating recently, but

Chantal has to beg her husband to shag her. Sorry, that’s not polite but I can’t think of any other way to put it, and she puts it that way in her

astonishingly good-looking – not the usual chinless wonder who normally graces the upper echelons of our society. (I speak as if I have a lot of experience in this area, but I don’t.)

They have a boat moored on the Thames which they never use, a villa in the South of France that stands empty for the majority of the year, and a weekend retreat in Cornwall – which they do occasionally visit. How flash is that? Ted is

At least I’m not at the charity-shop

I’d describe what she’s wearing, but I couldn’t bear to. It’s dreadful – all sort of hippy and mismatched. Floaty chiffon skirt with denim jacket and . . . well, cheesecloth. That’s as far as I’m going.

we