The end was a bit of a downer when she kept thinking she loved her old life and all the things that were not good about the farm. Jan 01, CiderandRedRot rated it it was ok Shelves: bonus-animal-cuteness , guilty-pleasure , location-porn , non-fiction , public-pressure-made-me-curious , wet-blanket-heroine , what-the-hell-was-that.
Hoping for a bit of festive season hate reading, I was actually pleasantly surprised by this book. Not being terribly clued up on raising horses and sheep, I found some of the things she had to say regarding rescue animals and the various charities designed to help abandoned and abused racehorses to be enlightening and depressing in equal measure.
However , taking everything she has to say with a sackful of organic Himalayan pink rock salt from Selfridges So the woman is an insufferable, moronic idiot, but she can write.
Part of me suspects that after her death her work will prove to be an epically plotted piece of performance art, after which I will happily declare her a genius. It was a weird cross-generational shared read, but fair dues Jones. Apr 11, Kirsten rated it liked it. So Liz Jones is a pretty controversial writer and has said some vile and offensive things over the years but I can't resist a tree change story.
This was a surprisingly engaging read. Yes she's quite self absorbed and the brand dropping is infuriating but I was entertained by her stories of rural life and her many animals. Jun 15, Vera rated it it was ok. If you can put up with the endless names of brands popping up everywhere, you might find this book okayish. I can relate to the author's love for animals, but there is a limit to how much I want to know about horse husbandry.
Still, it is sometimes funny, and is a heartbreaking tale of loneliness and growing old. While I love her love for animals, there is very little about this book that really grabs me. I'm not sure I could read another of her books, not with all of her complaints told. I had bought this book during one of our family trips to London as I really liked the synopsis : starting all over again, horses, moving to the countryside - these statements were really appealing to me, though I din't know the author at all.
I started reading the book this summer but I was tempted on putting it away several times wich only occurred two more books till now. I finally finished it after all in August when we where on our Summer holiday. Instead of reading about a career woman I had bought this book during one of our family trips to London as I really liked the synopsis : starting all over again, horses, moving to the countryside - these statements were really appealing to me, though I din't know the author at all.
Instead of reading about a career woman managing her life on her own, it became clear that it's the biography of a desperate lonely ageing woman, who hates men, woman, mothers, pregnant women, neighbours, the countryside, children, babies I really feel pity for her.
I may not be rich, I may not be famous, nor glamorous nor 'petite' and sexy. I am a mother of three, overweighted and live in a boring rural village My book review comes really late, as I was not sure if I should write about this biography at all. My conclusion: not to be recommended unless you take the author not too serious or important.
More reviews on my blog: www. Jan 08, Nancy Gates rated it really liked it. This is fun Liz Jones, the pre-bankruptcy Liz Jones. Actually, this book provides plenty of foreshadowing as to how she wound up bankrupt. As it turns out, a rural utopia can be plenty expensive.
As Liz's fortunes have declined her wit has turned ever more sour -- it has been painful to watch her slide in her weekly columns for the Daily Mail. I kind of hope she re-reads this book, though I know it will be painful to see what she -- ultimately -- lost, to remind herself that she was once a very p This is fun Liz Jones, the pre-bankruptcy Liz Jones. I kind of hope she re-reads this book, though I know it will be painful to see what she -- ultimately -- lost, to remind herself that she was once a very positive, fearless woman.
I like Liz Jones a lot. I hope she can rediscover her bravery and perseverance and good humor. Nov 18, Katie Baker rated it liked it. Liz Jones doesn't exactly come across as likeable in this at times but that is more down to her own inability to like herself than anything else.
I had no knowledge of her or her newspaper column and just picked this up by chance. As a standalone book it is a bit incongruous, I think it would read better if you had already read some of her other output. However it did make me think about the endless searching we all seem to be engaged in and what it actually is we are searching for. Not sure Liz Liz Jones doesn't exactly come across as likeable in this at times but that is more down to her own inability to like herself than anything else.
Not sure Liz Jones found it here though. Feb 16, Caroline Byrne rated it liked it. Feb 18, Fi rated it it was ok. Nov 06, Janice rated it really liked it. Candid and amusing, Liz Jones builds a new life in the country with her beloved animals.
With honest and outspoken opinions of all the people in her life this book is a better than a good bitchy gossip with a friend. Brave, bonkers, or both? You decide! Funny, sad, and heartfelt. Good read if you love animals. May 25, Jenn rated it liked it. I can't say I'm a big fan of the author, but I admire her love for animals - which definitely shines through in this. Vivien Abel rated it really liked it Apr 12, Marina Breeze rated it liked it Feb 08, Janette Jones rated it liked it Dec 13, Heather rated it liked it Dec 01, Caroline rated it it was amazing Feb 21, Rachael Gorman rated it it was amazing Aug 06, Zainab Abdul Aziz rated it it was ok Jan 23, Aug 28, Jenny rated it it was ok.
Indeed too much brand name dropping and too much horse stuff. Otherwise fairly entertaining. Smart: Liz had her home rebuilt in keeping with the farmhouse using traditional stone and character windows. Incidentally, the house was cold and had been left by the delighted vendors with a broken Aga, no light fittings and was absolutely filthy; they had even dug up and taken plants from the garden.
Then I discovered everything in the countryside is more expensive: you have to drive miles to even find a shop. Yes, racism is rampant in the deep countryside.
Lunchtime and Saturday closing was a big bugbear. On my last weekend on the edge of Exmoor, I drove to the local farm shop on a Saturday afternoon, only to find it closed. I literally hammered on the door, enraged. Fifties housewives!? But that is exactly who the women who live in these places are expected to be. And I think this is the main reason I never fitted in.
Unless you are a mum, with time to spare and a porridge-textured tummy, you will never be accepted or even spoken to. The rudeness was staggering. Once, my sister, who lives nearby, was giving a party for her young son in my garden.
After tea, all the mums came to pick up their children. And not one even bothered to acknowledge my existence, let alone exclaim how lovely my garden was. The garden, in fact, became the bane of my existence. I inherited an ancient gardener who immediately saw me as a little woman to be patronised. Beam me up: Hi-tech appliances mingle with original beams in Liz's expensive kitchen.
The biggest revelation, though, was finding out how farm animals are treated. How sweet. How idyllic. I had to cover my ears each year when the lambs were sent to slaughter. And I found it very hard to drive past a small herd of cows each winter night, confined as they were in a tiny pen, up to their bellies in mud and their own faeces.
And the shooting! I had thought it was bad enough living in Hackney, which I did for 11 years, but at least there the targets had some ability to fight back.
I would stop, too, and shout at huntsmen on horses, galloping on tarmaced roads, one hand on the reins, the other clamping a mobile phone to their heads. The biggest shock of all was when my postbox was fired at with a rifle, and eggs spattered on my car and the windows of my house.
Pretty in pink: Liz put her pink sofas as the focal point on the wood floorboards of this laid-back room. In fact, the only friendly local person who ever turned up at my house was a member of the League Against Cruel Sports, who lived just outside my local town. He told me he regularly had locals in his garden late at night, shouting abuse.
What really is your problem? This resulted in me being called names and shouted at when I went into the local pub. When I learned a local councillor had donned a black wig and bought a tin of Illy coffee to impersonate me on a float for the annual carnival, I put my house on the market.
Having lived most of my life in London, where no one cares where you come from, who you have sex with or what you wear, I found being told the countryside was not mine to enjoy and to cherish deeply fascist.
A ghastly local woman wrote a piece in the Daily Telegraph saying the way to win over locals when you move to the sticks is to take a bunch of flowers round on your first day. A real feat: Liz loved to unwind in the living room of the main farmhouse with her collie Michael.
Her main bone of contention was she felt I had snubbed her in the local pub. When I made friends with Emily, who ran the local deli, she told me that the man who ran the Post Office had refused to post off her birthday present to me, and, in fact, threatened to break it in front of her.
When I recounted this in a column, he and a male friend what a coward! Many of her customers said they would boycott her as she was clearly on my side. Exmoor might be a corner of England at its most pastoral, but it is also at its most feudal. I became so lonely, I would often get in my car, not just for the warmth, but for the kind voice of the satnav lady. I asked a local farmer what she could offer me for it. I admit I used to leave food out for the rats in winter.
You might have newts! Yes, I did have protected newts. They have been left unmolested. I had a glut of apples, too, that rotted in my cellar. That never happens to Monty Don. He must be made of sterner stuff. The views expressed in the contents above are those of our users and do not necessarily reflect the views of MailOnline.
Argos AO. Privacy Policy Feedback. During her catastrophic five years in the country, Liz Jones was greeted with a gun attack and relentless abuse. Share this article Share. Share or comment on this article: Goodbye
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