Page 196 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

then said, 'Have to go. We're cooking Delia Smith venison sausages with juniper

berries tonight and watching TV.'

Ugh. Have just smoked entire packet of Silk Cut as act of self-annihilating
existential despair. Hope they both become obese and have to be lifted out of the
window by crane.

5:45 p.m. Trying to concentrate hard on memorizing names of Shadow Cabinet
to avoid spiral of self-doubt. Have never met Waspy's Intended of course but
imagine giant thin blond rooftop giantess-type who rises at five each morning,
goes to gym, rubs herself down with salt then runs international merchant bank

all day without smudging mascara..

Realize with sinking humiliation that reason have been feeling smug about

Peter all these years was that I finished with him and now he is effectively
finishing with me by marrying Mrs. Giant Valkyrie bottom. Sink into morbid,
cynical reflection on how much romantic heartbreak is to do with ego and miffed
pride rather than actual loss, also incorporating subthought that reason for
Fergy's insane overconfidence may be that Andrew still wants her back (until he
marries someone else, har har).

6:45 p.m. Was just starting to watch the 6 o'clock news, notebook poised, when
Mum burst in bearing carrier bags. 'Now, darling,' she said sailing past me into
the kitchen. 'I've brought you some nice soup, and some smart outfits of mine for
Monday!' She was wearing a lime green suit, black tights and highheeled court
shoes. She looked like Cilla Black on Blind Date.

'Where do you keep your soup ladles?' she said, banging cupboard doors.
'Honestly, darling. What a mess! Now. Have a look through these bags while I
heat up the soup.'

Deciding to overlook the fact that it was a) August b) boiling hot c) 6:15 and