LIZ JONES’S DIARY: In which I am given a loo for Christmas

 It’s a first. After I told off David 1.0 for the state of his kitchen and loo, saying to him, ‘I’m done’, nothing. Then, a few days later, he sent a text. 

‘On reflection I agree the toilet is a problem. I’ve tried many chemicals and bleach to no avail. It’s calcium build-up. The reason it is black is because I scrubbed it with wire wool. I guess my only solution is to have a new toilet fitted. I’ll get on that next week.’ 

I replied: ‘I’m sorry, David. Maybe I was too harsh. I don’t think you are capable of changing. Maybe I could get someone in? I think it is bad for your mental health. Broken windows syndrome. But I can’t live like that, I’m sorry xx.’ 

Him: ‘You were a bit harsh but I was too defensive. Thank you for the offer but it’s my problem. I can fix it. X’ 

He then asked for the dates of my work Christmas parties, which I gave him. I told him not to spend money for my sake, I can stay in an Airbnb though, generally, amateurs have no idea about basic cleaning. But as my therapist said when I told her what had happened, ‘David’s flat isn’t clean. You earn a good living. You must be able to afford an Airbnb.’ I told her I get stressed going anywhere new. If I am renting from a private person, how do I know I’m not going to be murdered? 

I told her that, when I had to go to Bristol in hot pursuit of Boris Johnson and his Brexit bus, I couldn’t find the hotel, as the satnav kept taking me to a dead end by some bins. I broke down and had to call my assistant, Nic, to talk me down. 

Anyway, a few days went by, and then I got a message. It was a photo of a brand-new loo. 

I don’t think anyone has given me a loo for Christmas before now. A twig pencil. Petrol station forecourt flowers. A DVD of one season of The L Word. Never a loo. 

I replied. ‘Thank you.’ 

Feeling guilty, I then mentioned that I am giving a lecture to students at Bath University and am booked in afterwards at The Pig Near Bath. I love The Pig hotels, apart from the fact they don’t allow dogs. I also told him that after the lecture I had to be in London the next day for a photo shoot, and does he want to meet me at The Pig for dinner and a leisurely breakfast? I was feeling extra sentimental as he had also emailed me a photo of himself, from the early 90s. 

Ding-dong! He’s the spitting image of Paul Jones, from Manfred Mann. 

Now, a normal person (ie, a woman) would have replied, ‘What is the lecture about? What an honour!’ But no, nothing. Just one request from him, clearly mindful of the last time we stayed in a luxury hotel, when I was forced to lock him out of the room. 

Him: ‘Only if you promise to keep me off the absinthe.’ 

And then he said something really sad, something that pulled on my giving strings. ‘Truth is, I despise my flat.’ 

I felt so sorry for him then. I’ve talked a lot to my therapist about my childhood. How I learned to give things to my sister to prevent her going into a rage. How my mum was such a martyr. She would make stew, then by the time the pot got to her there was just gravy, not even a dumpling. You do know I’m about to buy a house. It is so beautiful, I’m already thinking of inviting my motherless nieces to stay, the ones I will be leaving it to when I die. 

And so I do it. I say it. I now cannot take it back. 

‘Dave. Come and live with me in the Vicarage. The only drawback is I won’t be able to trust Teddy with your cat. Other than that, life is meant to be enjoyed, not endured*. I worry about you being on your own.’ 

I’m now waiting, with breath that is bated, for his answer.

*I admit I’ve gone a bit Meghan Markle here

Jones Moans… What Liz loathes this week 

• People who say, ‘Remind me to…’ Or, ‘Don’t let me forget’. No! I’m not your bleeding mother
• Christmas food ads. It’s all revolting death and carnage. I can’t bear it.
• I always sit with a bowl of nuts in their shells on Christmas Day, but almonds? I can never crack them open. I need a man.
• Speaking of which, the fairy lights also need mending…

Contact Liz at lizjonesgoddess.com and stalk her @lizjonesgoddess

Illustration: Tom Peake at Making Pictures 

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