Liz Jones lived the perfect urban life. The immaculate Georgian townhouse in a leafy London square. The glamorous career where she would hob nob (not the right word: these people don't eat biscuits) with models and movie stars and fashion designers. The Italian wardrobe stuffed with designer bags and shoes. The much younger novelist husband. But then it all goes horribly wrong. She discovers her husband has been having numerous affairs (with women who are younger, dimmer, slimmer) and realises that her pursuit of perfection has never made her happy, and probably never will. And so she decides to start all over again, burying herself alive in the middle of the bleak, unforgiving wilderness that is Exmoor National Park. She buys a wreck of a farmhouse, with an original stable block, 46 acres, an ancient wood and a lake. She rescues a nervous and abused but breathtakingly beautiful racehorse, nursing the dream that she will be able to ride her thoroughbred bareback on the beach, spend her days wafting through flower-filled meadows, harvest her own organic produce and generally live out the rural dream. The reality, of course, is much, much harder.
'The Exmoor Files' is a funny, honest, often brutal real-life account of what it is like to start all over again in an alien environment. It is about discovering that you cannot find peace just by moving somewhere peaceful. It is about mourning for a relationship and letting go of the life you thought you deserved. And most of all it is about how Liz and her racehorse finally learn to trust, and to love, and to live, again. 
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