Tabby is one of the sweetest, most kind-hearted persons I’ve ever met – the type who throws love bombs in the middle of a fight. Well, lurve bombs, to be exact. Irish ancestry.
She draws people like flames do moths.
Judging from the snippets I know, her biography would make an astounding read. It has everything from finding herself, aged 15, in a hotel in Paris with nothing but her passport and a corset, to almost marrying a lord. Accordingly, her writing has the gripping, gritty intensity of a Velvet Underground song, sometimes fantastical, sometimes semi-autobiographic, from undiluted darkness to pure nonsense.
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