Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason by Helen Fielding
"We're having a Tony and Gordon Ladies' Night at the Rotary! Everyone's going to call each other by their first names and wear casual wear instead of ties. Merle Robertshaw's trying to put the kybosh on it because she says no one wants to come in slacks except the vicar, but actually Una and I think it's just because Percival's furious about the handguns. Then Wellington's going to give a speech. A black man speaking at the Rotary! Imagine! But you see that's the whole spirit of Labour, darling. Colours and ethical like Nelson Mandela. Geoffrey's been taking Wellington on little drives and showing him the pubs in Kettering. The other day they got stuck behind a Nelson Myers lorry full of scaffolding planks and we thought they'd had an accident!"
Trying not to think about the possible motivation behind Uncle Geoffrey's 'little drives' with Wellington, I said, "I thought you'd just had an election party with Wellington?"
"Oh no, actually, darling, Wellington decided he didn't want to do that. He said he didn't want to pollute our culture and have Una and I jumping over fires at parties instead of handing out vol-au-vents." I burst out laughing. "So anyway he wants to do this speech and raise some money for his jet-ski bike."
"What?" "A jet-ski, darling, You know? He wants to set up a little business on the beach instead of selling shells. He says the Rotary are bound to go for it because they're supporters of business. Anyway, must whizz! Una and I are taking him to get his colours done!"
Am assured, receptive, responsive woman of substance Who does not take responsibility for others' behaviour, only for own. Yes.
Saturday 3 May
9st 2, alcohol units 2 (standard health issue to avoid heart attacks), cigarettes 5 (v.g.), calories 1,800 (v.g.), Positive thoughts 4 (excellent).
8 p.m. Whole new positive mood. Sure everyone is being more courteous and giving under new Blair regime. Is surely clean sweep with broom sweeping out evils of Tory rule. Even feel different about Mark and Rebecca. Just because she is having a dinner party does not mean they are going out, does it? She is just being manipulative. Really, it is marvellous when one feels one has reached a plateau and everything just seems lovely. All things I used to think about not being attractive beyond a certain age are not true- Look at Helen Mirren and Francesca Annis.
8.30 p.m. Hmm, though. Is not very nice thought that dinner party is actually tonight. Think will read a bit of Buddhism: The Drama of the Moneyed Monk. Is good to calm down. Cannot expect life always to turn out well and everyone needs to nourish their soul.
8.45 p.m. Yes! You see problem is have been living in fantasy world, constantly turning to past or future instead of enjoying present moment. Am just going to sit here and enjoy present moment.
9 p.m. Not enjoying present moment at all. Is hole in wall, stink on stairs, growing overdraft in bank and Mark is at dinner party with Rebecca. Maybe will open bottle of wine and watch ER.
10 p.m. Wonder if Magda is back yet. She promised to call me the second she got in with full report. Sure she will say Mark is not going out with Rebecca and he was asking about me.
11.30 p.m. Have just rung Magda's babysitter. They are not back yet. Have left message to remind her to ring.
11.35 p.m. Still hasn't rung. Maybe Rebecca's dinner party is fantastic triumph and they are all still there having riotous time climaxing with Mark Darcy standing on table announcing engagement to Rebecca ... Ooh, telephone.
"Hi, Bridge, it's Magda."
"So how was it?" I said, too quickly. "Oh, it was quite nice actually."
I flinched. Totally wrong thing to say, totally.
"She'd done grilled goat's cheese on a green salad and then penne carbonara only with asparagus instead of pancetta, which was lovely and then peaches baked in Marsala with mascarpone.
This was terrible.
"It was obviously Delia Smith but she denied it."
"Did she?" I said eagerly. This at least was good. He does not like people being pretentious. "And how was Mark?"
"Oh fine. He's a really nice chap, isn't he? Terribly attractive." Magda has no idea. No idea, none. Not to praise ex-boyfriends who have chucked one. "Oh and then she did orange peel coated in chocolate."
"Right," I said patiently. I mean honestly, if this were Jude or Shazzer they would have every nuance, ready and deconstructed. "And do you think he's going out with Rebecca?"
"Hmmm, I'm not sure. She was very flirty with him." Tried to remember about Buddhism and that at least have own spirit.
"Was he already there when you got there?" I said slowly and understandingly as if talking to a very confused two-year-old.
"Yes."
"And did he leave when everyone else did?"
"Jeremy!" she suddenly yelled at the top of her voice. "Was Mark Darcy still there when we left?"
Oh God.
"Mark Darcy what?" I heard Jeremy bellow, and then something else.
"Has he done it in the bed?" Magda yelled. "A wee or a poo? IS IT A WEE OR A POO? Sorry, Bridge, I'm going to have to go."
"Just one more thing," I gabbled. "Did he mention me?"
"Take it out of the bed - with your hands! Well, you can wash them, can't you? Oh for God's sake grow up. Sorry, Bridge, what was that?"
"Did he mention me?"
"Um. Urn. Oh fuck off, Jeremy." "Well?"
"To be honest, Bridge, I don't think he did."
Sunday 4 May
9st 2, alcohol units 5, cigarettes 9 (must stop slide into decadence), hatred poison plans to kill Rebecca 14, Buddhist shame at homicidal thoughts: extensive, Catholic guilt (even though not Catholic): growing.
My flat. Very bad day. Went round to Jude's earlier in zomboid state. She and Shaz were going on and on saying I had to get back on some kind of horse and started - frankly insultingly - leafing through the Time Out Lonely Hearts.
"I don't want to look at Lonely Hearts," I said indignantly. "It's not that bad."
"Er, Bridget," said Sharon coldly. "Weren't you the one that wanted Tony Blair to set up dating agencies for Singletons? I thought we agreed that Political integrity was important."
"Oh my God, this is outrageous." Jude was reading out loud, shoving large pieces of a leftover Crunchie Easter Egg into her mouth. "'Genuine tall attractive male 57, GSOH, WLTM civilized, married luscious lady 20-25 for discreet uninhibited no-commitment relationship.' Who do they think they are, these creeps?"
"What's GSOH and WLTM?, I said.
"Giant sore on head. Willy limp, thin mollusc?" suggested Sharon.
"Great sex on horse with little tiny mouse?" I wondered.
"It means: Good Sense of Humour, Would Like to Meet," said Jude, suspiciously suggesting she might have done this before.
"I suppose you'd have to have a sense of humour to be too mean to fork out enough to say so in genuine words," sniggered Sharon.
Talking Hearts turned out to be v. entertaining. You can actually ring up and hear the people advertising themselves like contestants on Blind Date.
"Right. My name's Barret and if you'll be my sugar and spice, I'll give you champers on ice."
Is not very cool to start message saying "Right" thereby giving impression of huge build-up to scary messageleaving, even though obviously is scary.
"My work is thoughtful, fulfilling and rewarding and I'm interested in all the usual kind of things - magic, occult, paganism."
"I'm handsome, I'm very passionate. I'm a writer and I'm looking for a very special leading laydee. She'll take pleasure in having a good body, I'll be at least ten years older than her and she'll like that."
"Pahl" said Shazzer. "I'm going to ring some of these sexist bastards up."
Shazzer was in seventh heaven putting them on speaker phone then murmuring sexily, "Hello, is that 'First Time Advertised' on the line? Well, get off it quickly there's a train coming." Not very mature admittedly, but seemed amusing with all Chardonnay in selves.
"'Hi, I'm Wild Boy. I'm tall, I'm Spanish with long black hair, dark eyes, long black lashes and a lean, wild body....'" I read out i
"Ooh!" said Jude brightly. "He sounds rather nice."
"Well, why don't you call him then?" I said,
"No!" said Jude.
"So why are you trying to get me to ring someone?"
Jude went all coy then. Turned out whole Stacey, Singleton Depression weekend thing had catapulted her into returning one of Vile Richard's calls.
"Oh God," said Shazzer and I simultaneously.
"I'm not going back out with him or anything. It's just ... nice," she finished lamely, trying to avoid my and Shazzer's accusing stares.
Got back home to hear answerphone clicking on. "Hello, Bridget," said deep, sexy, foreign young-sounding voice. "This is Wild Boy. . ."
Bloody girls must have given him my number. Horrified by sense of danger implied by total stranger having phone number, did not pick up but merely listened while Wild Boy explained he will be in 192 tomorrow night holding a red rose.
Then immediately called Shazzer and gave her bollocking.
"Oh come on," said Shaz. "Let's all go- It'll be a laugh."
So plan is, we are all going tomorrow night. Ho hum.
What am I going to do about hole in wall and stench on stairs? Bloody Gary! He's got Ј3,500 of mine. Right. Am going to bloody well ring him up.
Monday 5 May
9st I (hurrah!), progress on hole in wall by Gary: none, progress on getting over Mark Darcy by fantasizing about Wild Boy: medium (hampered by eyelashes).
Got back to message from Gary. Said he got caught up on another job and as I was having second thoughts he thought there was no hurry. Claims he is going to sort everything out and come round tomorrow night. So you see, was worrying unnecessarily. Mmmm. Wild Boy. Maybe Jude and Shazzer are right. Have just to move on, not keep imagining Mark and Rebecca in different loving scenarios. Worry about lashes, though. How long, exactly? Fantasies of Wild Boy's lean, wild, devil body slightly spoilt by image of Wild Boy blinking under the weight of lengthy lashes like Walt Disney Bambi.
9 p.m. Got to 192 at 8.05, with Jude and Shaz in tow to sit at other table and keep eye on self. No sign of Wild Boy. Only man on own was horrible old creep in denim shirt, ponytail and sunglasses who kept staring at me. Where was Wild Boy? Gave creep filthy look. Eventually creep was staring so much decided to move. Started to get up then nearly jumped out of skin. Creep was holding up red rose. Stared at him aghast as he removed ridiculous sunglasses, smirking, to reveal Barbara Cartland-like pair of false eyelashes. Creep was Wild Boy. Rushed out in horror followed by Jude and Shazzer collapsing in giggles.
Tuesday 6 May
9st 2 (1lb phantom baby?), Mark thoughts: better, progress on hole in wall by Gary: static i.e. none.
7 p.m. V. depressed. Just left message for Tom to ask if he is mad too. Realize have to learn to love self and live in moment, not obsess but think of others and be complete in self but just feel awful. Really miss Mark so much. Cannot believe he is going to go out with Rebecca. What did I do? Obviously there is something wrong with me. Just getting older and older and is clear nothing is ever going to work out so might as well just accept am always going to be alone and never have any children. Oh look, must pull self together. Gary will be here soon.
7.30 p.m. Gary is late.
7.45 p.m. Still no sign of bloody Gary.
8 p.m. Still no Gary.
8.15 p.m. Gary has not bloody well turned up. Ooh, telephone, must be him.
8.30 p.m. Was Tom saying that he was very mad and so was the cat, which had started pooing on the carpet. Then he said something rather surprising.
"Bridge?" he said. "Do you want to have a baby with me?"
"What?"
"A baby."
"Why?" I said, suddenly getting alarming image of having sex with Tom.
"Well - - ." He thought for a minute. "I'd quite like to have a baby and see my line extended but, one, I'm too selfish to look after it and, two: I'm a pouf. But you'd be good at looking after it if you didn't leave it in a shop."
Love Tom. Is as if he sort of sensed the way I'm feeling. Anyway, he said to think about it. Is just an idea.
8.45 p.m. I mean why not? Could keep it at home in a little basket. Yes! Just imagine waking up in the morning with a lovely little creature next to me to snuggle up to and love. And we could do all things together like going to the swings and Woolworth's to look at the Barbie things and home would become a lovely peaceful baby-powder smelling haven. And if Gary turns up baby could sleep in spare bedroom. Maybe if Jude and Shazzer had babies too we could live in a community together and ... Oh shit. Have set wastebin on fire with fag end.
Saturday 10 May
9st 3 (phantom baby already gigantic, given age), cigarettes
7 (not necessary to stop for phantom pregnancy, surely?), calories 3,255 (eating for one plus tiny phantom), positive thoughts 4, progress on hole in wall by Gary: none.
11 a.m. Just been out for fags. Is suddenly, freakishly, really, really hot. Is fantastic! Some men are actually wandering round the streets in swimming trunks!
11.15 a.m. Just because it is summer is no reason life should fall into disarray with flat chaotic, in-tray ranging out of control, bad smells everywhere. (Ugh. Is really bad on stairs now.) Am going to change all this by spending today clearing up flat and doing in-tray. Must get things ordered ready to welcome new life into world.
11.30 a.m. Right. Will start by moving all piles of newspapers into one central pile.
11.40 a.m. Ugh, though.
12.15 p.m. Maybe will do in-tray first.
12.20 p.m. Clearly impossible without getting properly dressed.
12.25 p.m. Not keen on look in shorts. Too sporty somehow. Need little slippy dress thing.
12.35 P.m. Now where is it?
12-40 p.m. Just needs washing through and hanging out to dry. Then can get on.
12.55 p.m. Hurrah! Am going swimming to Hampstead Ponds with Jude and Shazzer! Have not done legs but Jude says pond is ladies only and teeming with lesbians who consider it mark of gay pride to be as hairy as yetis. Hurrah!
Midnight. Was fantastic at ponds, like painting of sixteenth-century nymphs only rather more of them than would expect in Dorothy Perkins swimsuits. V. oldfashioned, with wooden decking and lifeguards. Swimming in natural environment with mud on bottom* totally new sensation.
*bottom of pond, not own bottom
Told them what Tom had said about the Babyfather idea. "My God!" said Shaz. "Well, I think it's a good idea. Except that on top of 'Why aren't you married ?' you'd have 'Who's the father?' to contend with."
"I could say it was an immaculate conception," I suggested.
"I think all this would be extremely selfish," said Jude coldly.
There was a stunned pause. We peered at her, trying to work out what was going on.
"Why?" said Shaz eventually.
"Because a child needs two parents. You would be doing it to satisfy yourself when actually you're just too selfish to have a relationship."
Blimey. I could see Shaz taking out a sub-machine gun and gunning her down. Next thing Shaz was off on one, ranting away with a no-holds-barred sphere of eclectic cultural reference.
"Look at the Caribbean," she ranted while the other girls looked round in alarm and thought, mmm, Caribbean. Lovely luxury hotel and white sand.
"The womenfolk bring the children up in compounds," Shaz declared. "And the men just turn up sometimes and shag them, and now the women are getting economic power and there are pamphlets saying "Men at Risk" because they're losing their role just like they are ALL OVER THE FUCKING WORLD."
Sometimes wonder if Sharon really is quite such a Ph.D.-style authority on, well, everything, as she pretends to be.
"A child needs two parents," said Jude doggedly.
"Oh for God's sake that's a completely narrow, paternalistic, unrealistic, partisan Smug- Middle -Class -Married Parent view," hissed Shaz. "Everyone knows a third of all marriages end in divorce."
"Yes!" I said. "
"Well, there's no need to gang up on me about it," said Jude huffily, "I'm only giving my view. Anyway, I've got something to tell you."
"Oh yeah? What-" said Shaz. "You believe in keeping human slaves?"
"Vile Richard and I are getting married."
Sbazzer and I gawped in mute horror as Jude looked down, blushing winningly.
"I know, isn't it wonderful? I think when I chucked him the last time he realized you don't know what you've got till it's gone - and that finally jerked him into being able to commit."
"Finally jerked him into realizing he'd have to get a bloody job if he couldn't live off you any more, more like," muttered Shaz.
"Er, Jude," I said. "Did you just say you were going to marry Vile Richard?"
"Yes," said Jude. "And I wondered - will you two be bridesmaids?"
Sunday 11 May
9st 2 (phantom baby departed in horror at impending wedding), alcohol units 3, cigarettes 15 (may as well smoke and drink freely now), Mark fantasies 2 only (excellent).
Shaz just called and both agreed that whole thing is doom. Doom. And that Jude must not marry Vile Richard because:
a) He is mad.
b) He is viler Vile by name and vile by nature.
c) Is intolerable to have to dress up as pink puffballs and walk down aisle with everybody watching.
Am going to call Magda and tell her. "What do you think?" I said.
"Hmm. It doesn't seem like a very promising idea. But you know, people's relationships are quite mysterious," she said enigmatically. "No one from the outside ever really understands what makes them work."