Friday 31 March

9am. Hurrah! Fantastic report in papers saying pregnant women's absent-minded image is completely unfair - thereby proving Daniel Cleaver wrong. Oh look - that's where I put banker's chip card - on floor! Hurrah! Will just pick it u... gaah! What the fuck is that? Oh, is baby in stomach. What's that noise? Oh - mobile. Was garage man: "Your car's ready."

"Great! How much?" I said, thinking: Hurrah! Have got money from false-sacking, morning off and car back. Can zip down to H&M Maternity and buy fashionable Gwen Stefani-like boho-chic maternity gear instead of same three pairs of black sweat pants and tops. Also possibly Bugaboo pram.

"Twelve hundred and ninety eight pounds."

"What? What? What?" - was hyperventilating - "I could buy two Bugaboo Chameleons for that. You were only supposed to be getting the hose nozzle out of the petrol tank."

"Yeah! Hahaha. How d'you manage to get that stuck in there? But your gearbox had gone, hadn't it? Sounded like someone had been driving in second for months."

"That's outrageous, you should have called me with an estimate, I didn't ask you to fix the gearbox, it's been perfectly well driven, there was nothing wrong with it!" I gabbled indignantly, realising simultaneously I was lying: the car was completely the past tense of making love and instead of faffing about deciding whether to change up or down had adopted "find a gear you like, and stick to it" policy.

"I haven't got twelve hundred quid, and I'm pregnant," I wailed, both lying again and using unborn child to manipulate others. Upshot is, I can choose between selling car to garage for £200 or paying £1,200 to get it back. Will e-mail Mark Darcy for advice.

9.15am. Weird. Just tried to log on. Password will not work. Someone has hacked into computer and changed password. World is conspiring to thwart and frustrate self.

9.20am. Maybe was wrong password. Anyway, is written down in safe - residue of Mark Darcy influence.

9.22am. Cannot remember safe number. Maybe was birthday? Yes.

9.23am. Safe will not open. Have fallen victim to identify fraud. First, password is changed, then safe code Will call bank. But what is directory inquiries number? Oh never mind.

11am. After wrestling with whether or not is worth keeping car in London have decided yes, as cannot face getting on tube in horrible flappy weather. Also taxis prohibitively expensive. Gearbox repair, surely, will pay for self in taxi savings, ease, peace of mind etc.

10.30am. In car now, squeezed into pregnancy jeans tucked into boots in manner of Gwen Stefani. Gaah! - have just gone over Congestion Charge line, was planning to park outside. £8 gone before even start! No parking spaces - never mind will park in John Lewis car park. Oh, though: cannot turn right and am in traffic jam headed for Oxford Circus. Horrible dustbin lorry wants to come out of junction but am gridlocked across. Lorry driver is gesticulating as if am half-wit - tapping side of head and pulling horrible faces.

11.45am. Tried to reverse, but car behind started honking; meanwhile lorry driver still grotesquely gesticulating. Found self uncharacteristically sticking fingers down throat and miming wanking motions. Next thing parked car alongside honked. Wound down window and yelled "Fuck you!" only to discover was Mark Darcy's mother.

11.50am. Have found parking space now: Pay and Display.

11.55am. Gaah! is £2.40 an hour. Pregnancy jeans are so uncomfortable: under bump so keep slipping down at back. Am like builder with beer gut and bottom cleavage.

11.57am. Half-way to shop just remembered put money in Pay and Display machine but forgot ticket.

11.58am. Back at car. Oh no, oh no. Bloody parking fine already and machine has eaten £4.80 and will neither give paid-for ticket nor return money. Outrageous. Have to put another £4.80 and move car, lest towed away.

12.15pm. Grrr. H&M do not do maternity in Oxford Circus: must go to Marble Arch. Cannot walk as jeans too painful. So have wasted Pay and Display money x 2, plus parking fine. Also accidentally purchased white trilby hat in Top Shop in misguided cheer-up attempt.

12.20pm. Baaaaah! Another parking fine! Turns out Pay and Display ticket flapped up when closed door, so warden could not see time. Is wrong to blame individual warden. Stresses of job must be enormous.

12.21pm. bad person from hell. Hope he grows tail.

12.40pm. Is nowhere to park near Marble Arch - ooh goody! Three spaces all together!

12.42pm. Done pay and display perfectly. Nothing further can go wrong. Ugh, though. Is disgusting round here: windy and grim with people smoking miserably in shop doorways.

1.50pm. Hurrah! Excellent trying-on session. Have found many things. Must hurry before time runs out on car, though.

1.57pm. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Chip card PIN number has completely vanished from brain. Hate new chip cards. How are people supposed to remember all these numbers and passwords in life? Cannot buy anything. Is baby's fault. Daniel is right: Baby is eating brain in manner of huge cuckoo or small cannibal. Oh God - so late had better get taxi back to car then go straight to work.

1.59pm. Made it in time - after £3 for taxi - but where is car? Car vanished.

2.10pm. Grrr! Lady in sandwich shop says car has been towed away owing to miniscule "bay suspended" sign. Is £200 to get car back and will have to get taxi to work. Hate parking in London. Hate it. Is like giant intelligence, observation, or concentration test. One tiny slip and it's, "Hahahahahahaha! £200 please." Is like having goblins everywhere, waiting to snatch your shoes or handbag then demanding you go miles away and hand over savings before they'll give them back. Failed shopping expedition/concentration exam has cost: Congestion charge = £8.00. Pay & Display: 3 x £4.80 = £14.40. Parking fines x 2 = £100. Taxi to car = £3. Taxi to work = £15. Taxi to car pound £20. Towaway charge = £200.

Total = £360.40.

Friday 31 March

Middle of night. Gaah! Forgotten to pay Congestion Charge: another £50 fine. Baby's dream of Bugaboo pram has evaporated in parking charges.