Page 125 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

Suddenly the fantasies were replaced by images from the film Barfly, where the

couple spent the whole time blind drunk, screaming and throwing bottles at each
other, or Harry Enfield's The Slobs with Daniel yelling, 'Bridge. The baby Is
bawlin'. Its 'ead off.'

And me retorting, 'Daniel. I am avin' ay fag.

Wednesday 3 May

9st 2* (Eek. Baby growing at monstrous unnatural rate), alcohol units 0,
cigarettes 0, calories 3100 (but mainly potatoes, oh my God).* Must keep eye on
weight again, now, for Baby's sake.

Help. Monday and most of Tuesday I sort of thought I was pregnant, but knew I
wasn't really - rather like when you're walking home late at night, and think
someone is following you, but know they're not really. But then they suddenly
grab you round the neck and now I'm two days late. Daniel ignored me all day
Monday then caught me at 6 p.m. and said, 'Listen, I'm goin to be in Manchester
till the end of the week. I'll see you Saturday night, OK?' He hasn't called. Am
single mother.

Thursday 4 May