Page 156 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'Oh, for God's sake. It's that bloody Rebecca, isn't it?' he said. 'Shazzer told me

about the Magda conversation. It's ridiculous. You look about sixteen.'

Love Tom. Even though suspected he might have been lying still feel hugely
cheered up as even Tom would surely not say looked sixteen if looked forty-five.

Sunday 11 June

8st 13 (v.g, too hot to eat), alcohol units 3, cigarettes 0 (v. g., too hot to smoke),
calories 759 (entirely ice-cream).

Another wasted Sunday. It seems the entire summer is doomed to be spent
watching the cricket with the curtains drawn. Feel strange sense of unease with

the summer and not just because of the drawn curtains on Sundays and mini-
break ban. Realize, as the long hot days freakishly repeat themselves, one after
the other, that whatever I am doing I really think I ought to be doing something
else. It comes from the same feeling family as the one which periodically makes
you think that just because you live in central London you should be out at the
RSC/Albert Hall/ Tower of London/Royal Academy/Madame Tussauds, instead
of hanging around in bars enjoying yourself.

The more the sun shines the more obvious it seems that others are making
fuller, better use of it elsewhere: possibly at some giant softball game to which

everyone is invited except me; possibly alone with their lover in a rustic glade by
waterfalls where Bambis graze, or at some large public celebratory event,
probably including the Queen Mother and one or more of the football tenors, to
mark the exquisite summer which I am failing to get the best out of. Maybe it is