Books by and for independent women

A Diary of The Lady: My First Year and a Half as Editor by Rachel Johnson

Want to know who’s been eating all the pies? I’ll tell you who’s been eating all the pies – it’s Rachel Johnson and they sure as hell ain’t Pukka.

Higgledy pies, hampers from Betty’s, brownies, cupcakes, gourmet treats from Bighams, chutneys, exotic teas, champagne – the daily listing of ‘sweeteners’ in the in-tray features large throughout this book.

My concern for the suspension of the floor of the ninth editor’s Bedford Street office and whether or not she would actually crash through to the dreaded ‘Fred West basement’ far outweighed any concern over whether the longstanding magazine would ever double its circulation target.

Did I care about the fate of R-Jo before she was lured from a sloppy tracksuited existence of iNapping and takeouts from Ottolenghi to see if she could save the day at The Lady?

Having earlier digested a Notting Hell novel which did not disappoint in living up to its title, I admit I braced myself to tackle Penguin’s updated edition boasting additional chapters to the earlier published A Diary of The Lady: My First Year as Editor.

R-Jo professes to knowing nothing about The Lady other than “it was where you got a nanny from. Besides: “Ludo is sixteen, Charlotte Millicent is fifteen, Oliver thirteen, and I haven’t so much had an au pair for five years.”

An interview for an article about her favourite things, i.e. Agas, Exmoor, Land Rovers, her family and beloved dog Coco (who later guest edits the September 2010 issue of the magazine) catches the attention of Ben Budworth, he of the “bouncy public-school voice” and publisher and Chief Exec of the esteemed but tired family magazine.

She writes:

“For jobbing freelancers like me there is but one certainty in the digital age. We are like miners under Margaret Thatcher – guaranteed only built-in obsolescence instead of a pension. So we must take what crumbs we can.”

In her newspaper columns R-Jo is forever banging on about her humble upbringing yet given her penchant for dropping more names than the US dropped bombs on Vietnam and our knowledge of the blonde Johnson siblings, I think we all know that if it all went tits up (and hers, we are told are mercurial) we wouldn’t find R-Jo stacking shelves in Lidl.

With its Eau de Nil walls and staff in slippers, the Georgian building that houses The Lady offices is a fascinating set for Johnson’s assault on the 124-year-old institution. ‘Uncle Tom’ Bowles, the owner (since 1959) and proprietor resides in the splendour of the upper floor much as Christina Foyle did atop her empire in Charing Cross Road.

Ben’s formidable mummy, co-owner Julia Budworth is immediately cast as the wicked witch, just waiting for Johnson to put a foot wrong. It’s all a bit Cluedo and you can almost smell the blood on the boardroom table.

R-Jo lunges right in showing complete disregard for the loyalty of thousands of die-hard readers, giving them Emin instead of ermine and riling grand dame Budworth with every move.

The Channel 4 documentary crew that shadows the whole experience captures her self-obsession perfectly. The whole book really is a case of does-my-ego-look-good-in-this?

RJo clearly cares not one jot about the feelings of others, be they Joan Collins who is positively ‘throbbing’ to write for The Lady or the numerous hopefuls submitting articles for publication who are listed amongst the gluttonous gains in the in-tray, one senses purely for our amusement.

With gushing cover quotes from Piers Morgan, favours from chum Jilly Cooper and A.A. Gill at the touch of a BlackBerry, ‘Dada’ penning articles and even Johnson junior reviewing gigs, nepotism is clearly not dead chez R-Jo. The woman has no scruples.

A Diary of The Lady: My First Year and a Half as Editor by Rachel Johnson is published by Penguin and can be found on Amazon for £5.05. Read it on Kindle for £4.49.

Rating: 2/5

Recommended for: What-ho?! This one’s definitely for gastro luvvies, big girls who should know better but still think they’re at Mallory Towers, royalists, canapé darlings, fans of Dave (no, that’s not a euphemism) and anyone daft about dogs.

Other recommended reading: Dave Cameron’s Schooldays by Bill Coles and Wait For Me! Memoirs of the Youngest Mitford Sister by Deborah Devonshire.

Rebecca Smeaton