Monday 4 September 8st 13, alcohol units 4, cigarettes 7 (excellent), calories 974 (off
food). Thinking
about Jude and Dad makes me want to cry. Daniel says I am being
ridiculous, that I only saw them in a car together and am stuck in a
provincial nuclear family mindset and should lighten up. But they
weren't just in a car together, they were on the way to a party which
Mum was at and Jude was wearing a red basque and bunny ears. The whole
scenario breaks every rule in the book, as follows, and is unacceptable: 1.
Parents should not have sex: not with each other except to bestow the
gift of life and certainly not with others. 2.
Parents should not prefer anyone else to you. 3.
Exes (and I include my father in this category, by the way, because I am
identifying closely with my mother, not because there is any question of
child abuse) should never go out with or marry anyone else after you.
Instead, they should remain celibate and lonely to the end of their days
to boost your ego (though maybe there is something unnatural to do with
Dad buried deep in my consciousness which only expensive therapy could
get out. Maybe that is why I feel so weird about Jude. Oh, no). 4.
Sexes should be equal. Therefore it is wrong that my Dad in his sixties
should be able to pull my friend in her thirties as this would not work
the other way round. 5.
Best friends should not form successful relationships when one is not in
one oneself. 6.
Friends should not do sneaky things behind one's back such as, just to
give an example, shagging your father. 7.
The whole thing is too humiliating. It is definitely worse than when an
ex-boyfriend marries and everybody realises it wasn't that he couldn't
commit, he just didn't want to commit to you. Tuesday 5 September Why
hasn't Mum rung? Surely this will destroy her. Jude is half her age. It
is so difficult for older women in our society who feel they have
outlived their power and attractiveness once they pass 50, like Germaine
Greer and the Invisible Woman. Wednesday 6 September Mum
finally called at 7.30 this morning. She must have been crying all
night. "Oh, Mum - are you all right?" I said. "Darling,
you are sweet. I'm under such terrible pressure." "Is
there anything I can do?" There seemed to be rather a lot of noise
in the background. "Actually,
there is something," she said brightly. "Do any of your
friends have a number for Lisa Leeson. Darling? You know - Nick Leeson's
wife. I've been desperate to get her for days - she'd be perfect for
Suddenly Single, especially if we could screen it the day of the Frost
interview." "I
was talking about Dad," I hissed. "Dad?
I'm not under pressure from Dad. Don't be silly, darling." "But
the party.... and Jude." "Oh,
I know, hilarious, poor thing. Made the most absurd fool of himself
trying to attract my attention, turning up with some half-formed piece
of fluff dressed as a hamster or something. Honestly! Julio says women
don't become remotely interesting until they've passed 55. Anyway, must
run, but will you think who might have a number for Lisa? Let me give
you my direct line, darling." Thursday 7 September 9st 4 (horror, gone to seed), alcohol units 6, cigarettes 23, calories
4,526, Instants 9 (bad, but won pounds 2, so total expenditure pounds
7). 4pm. Just
had a call from Daniel. He was supposed to be away all week in Frankfurt
but is coming back this afternoon and will pick me up from the office,
but that means I will not have time to do anything to myself before I
see him. Being a woman is worse than being a farmer - there are so many
areas to be cultivated and maintained: legs to be waxed, underarms
shaved, eyebrows plucked, feet pumiced, skin exfoliated and moisturised,
spots cleansed, roots dyed, eyelashes tinted, nails filed, cellulite
massaged, stomach muscles exercised. The whole performance is so highly
tuned that you only need to neglect it for a few days for the whole
thing to go to seed. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if left to
revert to nature - with a full beard and handlebar moustache on each
shin, Denis Healey eyebrows, face a graveyard of dead skin cells, spots
erupting, long curly fingernails like Struwwelpeter, flabby body
flobbering around. Ugh, ugh. Is it any wonder girls have no confidence? 6pm. Huh.
Tried to get leg-waxing appointment in afternoon. Ended up having to do
legs with Immac in third-floor loos hoping nobody would notice the
smell. Waited until coast clear then dashed out, tightless, to rinse
shins. Standing with one leg in washbasin and supporting leg still
covered in Immac when Perpetua walked in. "Ah,
Bridget," she said. "Thought I'd find you in here. Daniel's on
the phone." "Ah.
Could you ask him to ring back in five minutes?" I said, taking my
leg out of the washbasin in a dignified manner. "He's
about to go into a meeting. He said to tell you he's not coming home
until Saturday now." 8pm. Got
home to a message from Dad, asking if I'd like to come out for a meal
tomorrow night. Then a second message from Jude, in tears, asking if I'm
free tomorrow night. |