Tuesday 14 March 9st
(again: what is the point?), alcohol units 4, cigarettes 17, calories
2,994 (but mainly fruit). Hmmm.
Can it really be, I was wondering, that love is nothing but see- saw?
When one is up the other is down, when one backs off, the other runs
after. Next thing I find is that international politics are just as bad,
with the Prime Minister of Britain trying to do see-saws with the
President of the United States by not speaking to him. I mean, for
heaven's sake, it's the sort of thing I'd do. I
spent the weekend struggling to remain disdainfully buoyant after
walking out on Daniel Cleaver's charming offer to shag me a few times
but not have a relationship. I kept saying the words
"Self-respect" and "Huh" over and over till I was
dizzy, trying to barrage out "But I luuurve him." Smoking was
v. bad. Apparently there is a character in the new Martin Amis novel who
is so crazily addicted that he starts wanting a cigarette even when he
is smoking one. That is me. It was good ringing up Sharon to boast about
being Mrs Iron Knickers, but Tom saw straight through it and said,
"Oh, my poor darling," which made me go silent trying not to
burst into self-pitying tears at the marvellous new image of myself as
wounded nun. "You watch," warned Tom. "He'll be gagging
for it now. Gagging." "No
he won't," I said sadly. But on Tuesday in the office, every time I
looked in Daniel's direction he was staring at me, as if he'd just
really seen me for the first time. At
3.45pm MESSAGE PENDING flashed up on the screen. FRIGID
COW. CLEAVE I
laughed, I couldn't help it, and then I looked across and he was smiling
at me in a relieved and fond sort of way. So of course we are back on
the computer messaging now, but I am being very reserved. I
made a complete arse of myself at the end of today, though. I got in the
lift to go home and found Daniel in there with Simon from marketing
talking about the footballers being arrested for allegedly throwing
matches. "Have you heard about this, Bridget?" said Daniel.
"Oh yes," I lied, flailing for an opinion. "Actually, I
think it's all rather petty. I know it's a thuggish way to behave, but
as long as they didn't actually set light to anyone, I don't see what
all the fuss is about." Simon looked at me as if I was mad and
Daniel stared for a moment and then burst out laughing. He just laughed
and laughed till he and Simon got out, then turned back and said,
"Marry me," as the doors closed between us. Hmmm. Sunday 19 March 9st,
alcohol units 0 (fat chance), cigarettes 0 all day then 7 in last hour,
calories 5 million Huge,
lard smeared, Sunday lunch at my parents'. My mother has decided the
vicar is gay and was ranting on hideously about homosexuality being a
form of laziness. "They just can't be bothered to relate to the
opposite sex. Look at your Tom," she said. "If that boy had
anything about him he'd be going out with you properly instead of all
this ridiculous `friends' nonsense." "Mother," I said,
"Tom has known he was a homosexual since he was 10." "Oh,
you know, men get these silly ideas but you can always talk them out of
it." "Does that mean if I talked to you really persuasively
you'd leave Dad and start an affair with Auntie Jean?" "Now
you're just being silly, darling." "Exactly," Dad joined
in. "Auntie Jean looks like a kettle." Sometimes I think I am
a changeling child. Monday 20 March 9st
5 (wish to murder Mother), alcohol units 9, cigarettes 10, calories 700
(but too late). 8.30am.
Wake up to hear Nelson Mandela on the Today programme claiming he
doesn't think about Winnie any more. Even the wisest man in the world is
trying to pretend he doesn't care. John finally called Bill but his
moody week of silence hasn't got him very far. "We do have a warm
and special relationship with the Prime Minister," says the White
House. Huh. "Special" these days means precisely the opposite.
If you get a birthday card saying "to Someone very Special",
it means they couldn't be bothered to get you a nice card. Major's
therapist should tell him to forget the whole thing with America. It's
like someone who used to go out with Kate Moss at school imagining she
still wants to go out with him, even though she's a supermodel now. One
thing I have learnt from Major's see-sawing is that there is nothing to
be gained from being unattractively churlish. Instead of being
"businesslike and thorough" with Clinton, he should have been
irresistibly charming and flirtatious but quietly started going out with
Japan instead. 8pm.
Oh no. Computer
messaging today somehow whipped itself up to fever pitch. At 6 o'clock I
resolutely put my coat on and left, only to meet Daniel getting into my
lift on the floor below. There we were, just he and I caught in a
massive electrical charge field, pulled together irresistibly, like a
pair of magnets. Then suddenly the lift stopped again and we broke
apart, panting as Simon from marketing got in wearing a hideous beige
raincoat over his fat frame. "Bridget," he said, smirkily, as
I involuntarily straightened my coat. "You look as if you've been
caught throwing matches." |