Sitting on a park bench overlooking Ocho Rios in Jamaica a few years back, Rupert Everett spots two women on the hill. One is like “a baby sparrow that has fallen from its nest”, he writes in his memoir. She appears a bit disorientated, wearing Uggs and a tracksuit. Everett describes her as “slightly chavvy”. The women are talking about prescription dru…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Letters from Suzanne to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.