8st 12 (yesss!); cigarettes 12; alcohol units 4 (celebrating legal victory)
All going marvellously again with Mark Darcy especially as he has got Geoffrey Alconbury to sign legal document to the effect that if I promise not to tell Mum or Auntie Una that I saw him in see-through black nylon T-shirt being snogged by a rent boy, then he will undertake never again to utter any of the following phrases in my presence: "How's your love- life?";
"Why aren't you married?"; "Durr! What are we going to do with you!"; "Give your Uncle Geoffrey a birthday/ Christmas/ Easter/ Whitsun/ Pentecost/ Lent/ August Bank Holiday/ First day of Tory Conference kiss, then."
Also he will never again attempt to kiss, embrace or mount either me or my father at otherwise harmless social occasions.
Love having top human rights lawyer as boyfriend, though Mark says must not make habit of using him for blackmail purposes.
Monday 18 November
9st; cigarettes 32( poor); alcohol units 6 (understandable)
Happiness wrecked by night with girls and Rebecca. Being with Rebecca is like swimming in holiday sea full of jellyfish: one minute all lovely, next minute lashed as if from nowhere, then next minute all as if nothing has happened again. Sometimes you don't even know you have been stung until after the evening has ended, when you remember her saying, eg "Are you younger than Shazzer? Oh nothing, no. I just always thought you were three or four years older. That's all."
Anyway, it all seemed to be going fine and jellyfish-free when Rebecca suddenly said, "Oh, by the way, Bridget. I saw Daniel in 192 the other day", and then carried on talking about phone boxes. "In the past three months since the portable phone has flooded the market, using a phone box has become the mark of a poor person! Like smoking Woodbines, or cutting coupons off pet-food cartons. The only people who use phone boxes are ones who are too poor to have a portable phone!"
"Or too sensible," said Shazzer.
"Or drug dealers," said Jude.
"What do you mean you saw Daniel?" I wanted to yell. "You can't just leave it at that!"
"You mean drug dealers who are too poor to have a portable phone," smirked Rebecca.
"Who was he with?" I bellowed silently. "Did he say anything about me?"
"What about people who've lost their portable phones?" said Jude.
"It's like smoking carriages in trains," Rebecca said. "They'll become total social stigmata."
Eventually I could stand it no longer: "Who was he with? What was he wearing? What did he say?"
"Who?" said Rebecca.
"Daniel," I exploded.
"Oh," she put her head on one side sympathetically, and opened her eyes very wide. "He was fine. Anyway, I think in certain areas we might see the phone box actually becoming redundant."
I tried not to ask any more but it was completely impossible. It's not that I want to go back out with stupid Daniel or anything but there are rules governing the behaviour of exes, strict adherence to which must be reported back on, ie
1. Exes must never remarry or find other partners but instead remain celibate to the end of their days in order to provide you with a mental fallback position.
2. It is not considered polite for exes whom you have chucked to get on contentedly with their lives. Instead they should make repeated and ideally frenzied attempts to get you back and ever afterwards confess drunkenly at parties that they nerloveden onessepyou.
3. Exes who have chucked you must at all times appear puffy-faced, miserable and dysfunctional, looking as if life meaningless coffee-spoon tape-measure style husk without you.
4. Exes must not bump into Rebecca.
"So what did he say?" I said, furious with myself for asking but at the same time totally unable not to.
"Bridget!" said Rebecca pityingly, "you know, I really thought you were over Daniel. We just had a little chat. I mean what do you want him to have said? I'll say whatever you want to hear."
Grrrr. I hate this sort of thing: when people get a bit of information they know they can tweak you with and sanctimoniously pretend that you shouldn't be tweakable while all the time really enjoying the tweaking. Ended up making complete arse of self by forcing Rebecca to recount entire incident, which consisted of Daniel, who was with Simon from Marketing saying, "Hi, how're you?" at which Rebecca replied, "Fine thanks, how're you?"
Considering getting Mark Darcy to make Michael Howard incorporate Rules for exes into Constitution along with rules for friends who meet exes. As follows:
1. Friends must not have "little chats" with exes but nor on other hand should they shout "Bastard!" at the tops of their voices when happening upon the exes but casually ignore the exes as if exes not worth noticing.
2. Friends who happen across exes at social occasions should either not mention the matter to you at all, or set aside two to five hours to go over the incident in close and precise detail, being careful to present whole matter in guise most suited to boost self's confidence.
Just called Mark to tell whole story who said if I didn't shut up he was going to have to come round and tweak me. Oooh goody. Doorbell.
Tuesday 18 November
8st 12 (vg); cigarettes 7 (vg); alcohol units 4 (excellent); minutes spent following Josh round Tesco Metro 24 (v. enjoyable)
Wild joy. Was just in Tesco Metro when who should I bump into but Rebecca's ex-fiance Josh holding hands with a beautiful and heavily pregnant black girl. Would like to thank good Lord in heaven above for kind attention regarding my mental well-being in this matter
Must buy Bridget's blurry good novel
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