Page 61 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

to make people not involved in romance feel stupid when everyone knows

romance does not work anyway. Look at royal family. Look at Mum and Dad.

Valentine's Day purely commercial, cynical enterprise, anyway. Matter of
supreme indifference to me.

Tuesday 14 February

9st, alcohol units 2 (romantic Valentine's Day treat 2 bottles Becks, on own,
huh), cigarettes 12, calories 1545.

8 a.m. Oooh, goody. Valentine's Day. Wonder if the post has come yet. Maybe
there will be a card from Daniel. Or a secret admirer. Or some flowers or heart-

shaped chocolates. Quite excited, actually.

Brief moment of wild joy when discovered bunch of roses in the hallway.
Daniel! Rushed down and gleefully picked them up just as the downstairs-flat

door opened and Vanessa came out.

'Ooh, they look nice,' she said enviously. 'Who are they from?'

'I don't know!' I said coyly, glancing down at the card. 'Ah . . . I tailed off.
'They're for you.'

'Never mind. Look, this is for you,' said Vanessa, encouragingly. It was an
Access bill.