Who else would be interested in the disastrous meals I make for the kids (yes, still stuck on fajitas I’m afraid—how amusing you always found my two-dish culinary repertoire) or the fact that the grumpy old man who came to read the gas meter told me off for having so many boxes and bags cluttering the cupboard under the stairs? It's one of those books that you read with dread and butterflies in your tummy as you know something bad will happen. On one hand you feel sorry for her, but on the other you’re like, this is the spoils of dating and falling for a married man. But eventually Sally loses her already wavering grasp on reality and has convinced herself of certain things that couldn’t be further from the truth.

How does the novel’s conclusion relate to the injus­tices Sally and Clive perpetuated one against the other over the course of the novel?I thoroughly enjoyed reading it and even resented that we were going to a friends house for dinner and couldn't finish it. Secondly, and this just goes to show the measure of talent that Ms Cohen has, the whole book is written in the SECOND person. I must say, Susan was very friendly on the phone, very voluble, as if I’d caught her at a loose end and she was glad of the interruption. It's written in the form of a diary, written by Sally, who has just been dumped by her lover of 5 years, Clive. The content on ManyVids is created by adult performers and is intended for fantasy purposes which do not necessarily depict reality.

The women's punishment should be you being happy her knowing she hasn't won and that you two are strong enough to pull through that is the biggest kind of revenge! At first I found the style and the content very difficult to get into, I just couldn't connect with Sally at all and just got annoyed by her incessant pestering of Clive, her obsession with him and her neglect of her family. She is a former Associate Features Editor at Bella magazine, one-time weekly columnist for Best, and was New Woman’s agony aunt for five years.Helen Bunion talked to me once about engaging with the children and I tried to remember what she said. Imagine me a bit like congealing fat on the kitchen linoleum, the kind of thing you’d have to dig at vigorously with a sharp knife. I expect you were wondering what it was I was saying every time there was a silence (which, let’s face it, isn’t that often when having a conversation with Susan, although I did my best to hold my own). Sally’s romance with Clive unspools in her recollections of their collaborations, their intimacies, their secrets and lies.