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17-Oct-2017 08:26

He has nice brown eyes, but is not quite tall enough for me.New York, New York: Liz on a date in Mahattan He sits down. He orders me another glass of champagne, and tells me about his ex-wife.'She was great eye candy,' he says, confirming that all men would like you to believe the women in their lives are great beauties.He tells me she spent £500,000 of his money on the divorce and that they now barely speak.Until now, I always thought people who resort to dating agencies must be a little desperate. I have never before even been set up by friends or been on a blind date.But then I reached the first anniversary of my divorce and, much to my surprise, having sworn off men for life, I started to wonder, with the prospect of a great big yawning new year stretching ahead of me, whether there might be someone out there for me and, if so, how on earth am I going to find him?She never sends clients photos, but instead supplies a brief resume of their qualities. He says he likes good hotels and restaurants, long walks and log fires.She has, she says, an instinct for knowing who will hit it off. 'Looks are subjective,' she says, and adds 'he is charismatic and an animal lover with a Labrador.' That swings it. I tell him I live in the middle of Exmoor, have horses, dogs, cats and rescued farm animals, and am recently divorced.

Five years ago, with an address book positively bulging with successful but often lonely men and women, she decided to set up a dating agency.I'm not interested in the boring banker types that make up the bulk of her clients.She tells me I seem to have narrowed my options to Paul Mc Cartney but, rather valiantly, accepts the challenge to help me find Mr Right. Once a client has been interviewed and then vetted - Mairead visits them at home, checking out passports and, if necessary, decree absolutes - she will then introduce them to prospective partners all over the world (rich people, it seems, have no truck with annoying things like distance and time zones).It doesn't bode well that it's my date, and I don't even recognise him!I think I cover up my amnesia, and he gallantly phones his driver to take me back to my hotel.

Five years ago, with an address book positively bulging with successful but often lonely men and women, she decided to set up a dating agency.I'm not interested in the boring banker types that make up the bulk of her clients.She tells me I seem to have narrowed my options to Paul Mc Cartney but, rather valiantly, accepts the challenge to help me find Mr Right. Once a client has been interviewed and then vetted - Mairead visits them at home, checking out passports and, if necessary, decree absolutes - she will then introduce them to prospective partners all over the world (rich people, it seems, have no truck with annoying things like distance and time zones).It doesn't bode well that it's my date, and I don't even recognise him!I think I cover up my amnesia, and he gallantly phones his driver to take me back to my hotel.Miraculously, given that I was the editor of a woman's fashion magazine, before meeting my husband in my early 40s (then a BBC journalist, he came to interview me; as soon as we got married, he gave up his job and started having sex with other women), I had only ever had three boyfriends, two of whom hadn't even liked me that much.