Page 195 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

8:45 a.m. Ugh. Hateful document from Social Security Agency asking for

£1452. What? How can this be? Have not got £1432. Oh God, need fag to calm
nerves. Mustn't. Mustn't.

8:47 a.m. Just had fag. But no-smoking day does not start officially till have got
dressed. Suddenly start thinking of former boyfriend Peter with whom had

functional relationship for seven years until finished with him for heartfelt,
agonizing reasons can no longer remember. Every so often - usually when he has
no one to go on holiday with - he tries to get back together and says he wants us
to get married. Before know where am, am carried away with idea of Peter being
answer. Why be unhappy and lonely when Peter wants to be with me? Quickly
find telephone, ring Peter and leave message on his answerphone-merely asking
him to give me call rather than whole plan of spending rest of life together, etc.

1:15 p.m. Peter has not rung back. Am repulsive to all men now, even Peter.

4:45 p.m. No-smoking policy in tatters. Peter finally rang. 'Hi, Bee.' (We always
used to call each other Bee and Waspy.) 'I was going to ring you anyway. I've

got some good news. I'm getting married.'

Ugh. V. bad feeling in pancreas area. Exes should never, never go out with or
marry other people but should remain celibate to the end of their days in order to
provide you with a mental fallback position.

'Bee?' said Waspy. 'Bzzzzzzz?'

'Sorry,' I said, slumping dizzily against the wall. 'Just, um, saw a car accident
out of the window.' I was evidently superfluous to the conversation, however, as
Waspy gushed on about the cost of wedding cakes for about twenty minutes,