Sunday September 4th
Cigarettes: 0. Alcohol units: 0. Calories: minus 3, 465 ( owing to
vomits.) Baby outfits purchase: 4 ( better).
keeps ringing but dare not pick up - even if was able to - in case is
one of baby's fathers. Feel have been lying here for days, like woman in
Alan Bennett's Talking Heads who died trying to retrieve biscuit from
under sofa. Maybe should start singing Jerusalem to keep spirits up and
attract rescue whilst simultaneously supporting English cricket team.
is ringing cannot leave message as Tom has filled up machine by ranting
hysterically from San Francisco about CNN and toxic soup: "They've got
half a million poor black people wading in toxic soup and who do they
interview on Larry King Live? Some arty white photographer who had to
check out of his deluxe hotel in New Orleans and go to one in Texas. You
should hear them: 'The President is now fighting a Warrrrr on two
fronts: the Warrrr on Terrurrr and the Warrrr on Naturrre!'. The man's a
total wimp. I bet he spent the first two days crying and masturbating
under the duvet."
is right, actually. If I had been in charge of America this week I would
definitely have handled it a lot better. First I would have gone down to
the disaster area immediately, and on the way got all my troops
organised to drop water and food over the city, then at least people
would have known help was being organised, even if most of it fell in
the toxic soup. Then I would have stridden about investigating needs and
making rousing speeches. Can never understand absence of leadership in
modern world. It's like in the London bombings: what people really need
in a crisis is someone like Churchill or Mayor Giuliani to stand up and
inspire you with integrityful ideas of what to think and how to be:
pride in self, and things to believe in, not some Bush-like barrage of
spin after their advisers tell them they've pissed everyone off. I would
have said: "People of Louisia ... Oh, though. Is New Orleans the same as
Toilet really is wonderful invention. Is just amazing to have such a
thing in one's home which can so calmly, cleanly and efficiently take
all the sick away. Wish phone would stop ringing. Love the lovely
toilet. Is cool and solid, calm and dependable. Is fine just to lie here
and keep it handy. Sometimes I think it is not a man I have been wanting
all these years but a toilet. A baby I mean. Gaah. Doorbell. Will just
be sick once more and then ... ugh.
may have just been subject of an Alcoholics Anonymous-style
intervention. Though not, ironically perhaps, about being an alcoholic.
Suddenly heard key in lock, footsteps, then bathroom door bursting open.
Looked up, drooling slightly. Was Smug Married friend Magda, followed by
Jude and Shazzer.
are you doing?" said Magda, in calm, increasingly familiar tone of
emergency worker addressing lunatic.
I'm writing a speech," I said. "What I would have said to the people of
New Orleans is: 'It might seem in the modern world as if everything is
safe and civilised, but really we're just tiny creatures in a huge
universe a the whim of nature. The question is, can we survive? What
strength can we find within us to...' "
hissed Magda furiously. "Have you been smoking marijuana? With a baby on
you be speaking to the people of Louisiana about survival from your west
London bathroom floor?" chortled Shaz. "From whence you have failed to
rise for 12 hours owing to a slight bout of morning sickness?"
think you're in denial," said Magda. "You're a single mother. You're
pregnant. And you don't know who the father is."
do know," I said, indignantly. "It's definitely either Daniel or Mark
at their faces, though, I suddenly had a mini-panic attack in case I had
accidentally slept with someone else as well and then forgotten about
it: rather like at school when the headmistress says "No one is leaving
this hall until the person who wrote 'shag' on the wall owns up," and
you feel like it was you.
you thought about the implications of a child not knowing who its father
is?" said Magda.
of course she's going to know who the father is the minute it's born,"
said Shazzer, groping inside the fridge. "It'll either have a poker up
its arse or immediately start trying to shag the maternity nurses."
up, Shazzer," hissed Jude.
continued Shazzer. "It's OK, Magda. Me and Jude can be, like, the
fathers. Fucking hell, Bridge, is this all the vodka you've got?"
Christ," said Magda, putting her fingers against her forehead and
breathing through her nose. "I don't know what we're going to do. Who's
going to take care of it? I suppose it'll fall to me and Jeremy, and we've
already got three."
was now walking around hysterically, flapping herself with her LK
Bennett clutch and pulling at the side of her hair.
better sit down," I said, pulling out a chair.
drink this," said Shazzer.
Bridget. I mean it's just so bloody inconsiderate putting us all through
be fine, Mag," I said soothingly. "It's not like we're dying in toxic
about at school?" said Magda. "When the other children ask about her
daddy, and she has to say, 'I haven't got a daddy'."
said Jude, "by that time having two parents actually living together
will probably be so weird it will be actually embarrassing: like being
upper middle class or something."
this Magda - now completely drunk - started crying and saying Jeremy had
started up the affair again and for all the help he was, she might as
well be a bloody single parent anyway.