In a Victorian terrace, somewhere in South East London, our heroine soldiers on with Wolf Hall, the epic Booker Prize winning historical novel by Hilary Mantel.
And yet she yearns for something a little less challenging; for a book that whisks her mind away to a life of simple pleasures and away from the drudgery of literary fiction, her frantic social life and the high powered job in skills that she is SUPER at.
A life where successful career girl meets handsome boy; falls in love; gets married; and moves to new husband's crumbling old pile in the country, complete with grumpy father-in-law, dodgy old retainer, and an ensemble of characters straight out of OK! magazine.
To a life where she can create the most AMAZING retreat for tired, worn out stars, wannabes and minor royals. Where they, too, can shelter from the real world, taking in the faded grandeur of the terribly old farm and shambolic buildings. And they can laugh in the face of petty bureaucracy, strange locals and general bizarreness of country folk. Nothing that a FABULOUS contacts book and a bit of vim and vigour (plus a few Jo Malone scented candles) can't fix, eh?
She turns her attention back to the tome on her lap. Slowly, she reaches for a book, a colourful book that has appeared miraculously on the table before her. She thought she was being discreet, but little did she know that all her blog readers were watching. Watching, as she PICKED UP A CHICK LIT BOOK AND ACTUALLY READ IT!
Her blog readers sighed and thought to themselves "Jesus, I hope she finishes Wolf Hall soon."
"Me too." Said our heroine.