This is great late night read full of outwardly respectable and ostensibly happy people. However, scratch the surface and you open a can of worms. The issues are contemporary and topical and I found them easy to identify with being in a similar situation as a married mother of young children worried about the recession.
However, some minor irritations here with a smattering of upper middle pretensions. Maybe it's just me but there's so many Waitrose name checks I thought Ruston had a sponsorship deal. Oh and who on earth would call their son "Viking"? Izzy's husband telling her the white truffle risotto she made him was wonderful made me wince a bit too.
I imagine this as mini series starring Sarah Parrish or some such and I imagine the poor me posh girls in it would grate. However, maybe I am guilty of reverse snobbery, I don't know.
I did like it though, and loved how many secrets were buzzing around, from James' secret money transfers to the "Why won't he marry me?" dilemma. I devoured it whilst partaking of some Waitrose Ciabatta with Balsamic Vinegar and Virgin Olive Oil.