Page 103 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

on a minute! Sisters! Under the skin! Magda! If Magda's husband has nothing to

be ashamed of in dining with this worthless trollop in my suit, he will introduce
me.

I altered my path to pass his table, at which he immersed himself deep in
conversation with the trollop, glancing up as I walked past and giving me a firm,

confident smile as if to say 'business meeting.' I gave him a look which said,
'Don't you business meeting me,' and strutted on.

What should I do now, though? Oh dear, oh dear. Tell Magda? Not tell
Magda? Ring Magda and ask if everything's OK? Ring Jeremy and ask him if
everything's OK? Ring Jeremy and threaten to tell Magda unless he drops the
witch in my suit? Mind my own business?

Remembering Zen, Kathleen Tynan and Inner Poise, I did a version of Salute
to the Sun I remembered from distant Yogacise class and centred myself,
concentrating on the inner wheel, till the flow came. Then I resolved serenely to
tell no one, as gossip is a virulent spreading poison. Instead I will ring Magda a
lot and be there for her so if anything is amiss (which she is bound, with

woman's intuition, to sense), she will tell me. Then if, through Flow, it seems the
right thing to do, I will tell her what I saw. Nothing of value comes through

struggle; it is all about Flow. Zen and the art of life. Zen. Flow. Hmmm, but then
how did I happen to bump into Jeremy and the worthless trollop if not through
Flow? What does that mean, then?

Tuesday 11 April

8st alcohol units 0, cigarettes 0, Instants 9 (this must stop).