Page 213 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'Durr! Don't lie,' I muttered. Pleased though.

'Well, I'm sure that's what he meant, anyway, darling.'

'What did he say?' I hissed, suddenly suspicious.

'He said you were very . . . '

'Mother . . . '

'Well, the word he actually used, darling, was 'bizarre.' But that's lovely, isn't
it - 'bizarre'? Anyway, you can ask him all about it at the ruby wedding.'

'I'm not going all the way to Huntingdon to celebrate the ruby wedding of two
people I have spoken to once for eight seconds since I was three, just to throw
myself in the path of a rich divorce who describes me as bizarre.'

'Now, don't be silly, darling.'

'Anyway, I've got to go,' I said, foolishly since she then, as always, began to
gabble as if I were on death row and this was our last phone call before I was
given a lethal injection.

'He was earning thousands of pounds an hour. Had a clock on his desk, tick-
tock-tick-tock. Did I tell you I saw Mavis Enderby in the post office?'

'Mum. It's my first day at work today. I'm really nervous. I don't want to talk

about Mavis Enderby.'

'Oh, my godfathers, darling!' What are you going to wear?'

'My short black skirt and a T-shirt.'

'Oh, now you're not going to go looking like a s1oppy tramp in dull colors. Put
something smart and bright on. What about that lovely cerise two-piece you used