6st, calories 3, cigarettes 2, alcohol units 0, minutes without leg-irons on 2, minutes without crying 423 (vg. spiritual strength); minutes spent moaning in sign language about how uncomfortable leg irons are 465 (v. satisfying)
llam: Police custody, Bangkok.
Humph. That is definitely it. There is no way I am ever trusting a man again no matter how good a kisser he is. I cannot believe anyone could be so callous not only to snog two girls who are on holiday together, thereby creating a rift between them, but then to dupe them into being "pigeons" - as they are known in the underworld - for drug trafficking, by stealing all their things then pretending to help by lending them bags with drugs in the lining. Bloody "Jed". Huh. Anyway I expect the British Ambassador will be here soon to explain everything and get me out.
Noon: Becoming slightly anxious about whereabouts of British Ambassador.
2pm: Sure the British Ambassador will be along after his lunch break.
3pm: Maybe the British Ambassador has been held up, perhaps by a more pressing case of real drug trafficking as opposed to an innocent victim, or maybe he is getting the plasters for my leg-iron blisters.
4pm: Oh my bloody God and f***. I hope they have bloody well told the British Ambassador. Surely Shazzer will have raised the alert. Maybe they have got Shazzer as well for being my accomplice. She went on ahead of me in the airport as we were late and was going to hold up the plane while I came along with the bag and our duty frees. But where is she? Mum and Dad have gone up to St Anne's to see Grandma in the Home so how will anyone realise we have not come back? On top of everything else just tried to ask my fellow cell-mates in sign language if they still have the death penalty in Thailand and they all ran to the other side of the cage and are now all staring at me and trembling. Am most unpopular girl in the cell. Always knew nobody really liked me. Even Phrao who was my main ally in moaning about the leg-irons is looking at me in a horrible way.
Wednesday 27 August
5st (vg), calories 12 (mmmmm. rice), alcohol units 14 (but imaginary), Instants 0, cigarettes 0
Imprisonment v. healthy both physically and spiritually. Am determined to keep spirits up. Cannot believe how my thighs have gone down. Is marvellous. Bet I could fit into 87 jeans now. Good news also is Phrao is my friend again as I gave her my Wonderbra - even though she has no breasts to put in it she seems to like it - she is walking around in it saying "Madonna". Cannot help thinking it is cupboard love or underwear-drawer love, but beggars can't be choosers and it is nice to have a friend again. Think will recite a few lines of "If" by Rudyard Kipling to keep spirits up.
If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and ... OH MY GOD - do they still have beheading in Thailand?
10am: British Ambassador has been only was not British Ambassador but a Representative. V. nice in a way, rather like computer salesman in short- sleeved shirt and wire glasses. Only thing was, he did not seem as certain as I would have liked that he would get me out. He said the only chance I have of getting out immediately is if they catch "Jed" and he makes a full confession, and I will not be beheaded but get a maximum of 10 years. I thought I was going to cry then but was determined not to as the only thing I have left to rely on is myself. He gave me a list of lawyers to choose from, but how am I to know one from another? Then he said was there anyone he wanted me to ring. Suddenly a flicker of hope rose inside me. "Mark Darcy," I whispered.
5pm: It is strange how, even in darkest hours, little things can cheer you up. The ambassador man left me a kit thing. After he had gone I opened it and inside was water, biscuits, sandwiches, insect repellent and, best of all, soap and pen and paper - so I can start to write my novel. Everyone was looking at me so I made a spiritual epiphany decision to share everything except the pen and paper. Am marvellous in manner of Jesus and the five loaves and two fishes. Everyone in the cell is my friend. Granada will probably make a four-part series about us.
Midnight: Feeling very black. All my life I have had the feeling something terrible was about to happen and now it has.
Thursday 28 August
Hurray. You see, sun always comes out if you keep your spirits up. This afternoon to cheer ourselves up we were doing a Madonna lookalike competition taking it in turns with the Wonderbra. I was just doing my version of "Material Girl", standing on the bench in my jeans and the bra using the insect repellent as a microphone when there was a commotion at the door of the cage.
"Man for you," shouted the policeman in a high-pitched, cruel voice. I looked across and there, with the light behind him, wearing a crisply ironed shirt and a smile which was a mixture of astonishment and control and capability and tenderness - like a vision, like God, like Daddy - was Mark Darcy.Reuse content