My new female friend has invited me down to Cornwall next weekend. ‘Staying at Nathan Outlaw’s place. He and hotel gorgeous. Food divine.’
Me: ‘Is he the chef with one arm?’
‘I don’t think so! I’ll check! You can hop in an Uber from Bodmin.’
I admire people for whom the world is their oyster, who can be spontaneous. I am already googling maps and the AA Route Planner, thinking, ‘I would have to pay for a room. And how can there be any vacancies when it’s August? I don’t want to be given a view of the bins at the rear.’
Nic still isn’t back at work; her consultant tells her there is a six-month waiting list for her surgery. One of the reasons I never had children was the thought of having to cook every day; I was used to being free to hare down to Babington House for the weekend. My only problem in those days was indeed room envy. My friend says I could bring my dogs, but Teddy is a nutter, goes insane if he sees another dog, while Missy hates going on walks: when I take Teddy to the car, eyes peeled for other canines, she’s off lead and is supposed to follow. All she does is turn round and try to break into the house.
Nic expressed her dislike at having my dogs stay at her house (I had to leave them with her when I was released from the prison that is my life and went to a wedding), as Teddy chases the rabbits in the garden (Nic is putting out bowls of water for them due to the drought) and Missy spray wees. I don’t think Nathan Outlaw would cope, especially if he is, as I thought, one-armed. It turns out having children would have been easier, as by now they’d have left home, and I’d never have to cook again.
Join the discussion
Why do you think so many adult friendships fall apart, and can they truly be rebuilt?
Another friend quit her job as she wants to ‘enjoy the summer’ and spend time in the garden; I suppose having a husband to split the bills helps. When I returned on Sunday from looking after the horses (in the paddock, on a steep hill with my wheelbarrow, I glare crossly at joggers who trot by, muttering under my breath, ‘You could come and help poo pick if you really want to get fit’), I realised my little front garden is not, as the gardener who planted it promised, ‘low maintenance’, as it is now covered with weeds, dead poppies and needs watering. At which point I yearned for my London patio, which only required hoovering. Monty Don is always going on about how gardening is good for our mental health, but all I could think while standing in full view with a hose was, ‘I wonder if I’m going to be arrested?’
It wasn’t relaxing as I was listening for sirens. Who knew dandelions had such strength? And lupins just flower – at a crazy angle – the once? The dog rose snagged my new woolly; that never happens to Frances Tophill.
But, you see, I do have female friends, despite what my ex-husband said when we met for a Daily Mail feature (you can read it here if you missed it). I have, of course, lost many friends, romantic relationships, every single family member due to this column but, as Miley Cyrus said so eloquently: ‘I didn’t talk badly about you. I talked about what you did to me. If that makes you look bad, that’s between you and your behaviour.’
Anyway, six of these columns are to be featured in a Cambridge textbook. I’m quoted alongside Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf and E M Forster, and the author writes of my work, ‘Ms Jones’s columns are among those I found most striking for their candour and willingness to admit to things that do not always show her in a flattering light… and an affinity with animals over people that recurs in several autism-associated writers discussed in the book.’
I think that’s positive, so am reading it as such. Stick that in your gardening podcast and smoke it…
JONES MOANS… WHAT LIZ LOATHES THIS WEEK
Anyone who tells me to ‘take a seat’. I don’t want to take a seat!The new editor of British Vogue on her World Cup disappointment: ‘I’m in my feelings today.’ No wonder I cancelled my subscription…The TV advert for Simba mattresses and pillows. Why are the actors lolling around without sheets and pillowcases? They are like my ex-husband, who when we met didn’t even know duvets needed covers.
