Page 214 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

to wear? Oh, by the way, did I tell you Una's gone down the Nile?'

Grrrr. Felt so bad when she put the phone down that smoked five Silk Cut in
row. Non-vg start to day.

9 p.m. In bed, completely exhausted. I had forgotten how hideous it is starting a
new job when nobody knows you, so your entire character becomes defined by
every chance remark or slightly peculiar thing you say; and you can't even so
much as go to put some makeup on without asking where the ladies' is.

I was late through no fault of my own. It was impossible to get into the TV
studios as I had no pass and the door was run by the sort of security guards who
think their job is to prevent the staff from entering the building. When I finally
reached reception I wasn't allowed upstairs till someone came to get me. By this

time it was 9:25 and the conference was at 9:30. Patchouli eventually appeared
with two huge barking dogs, one of which started jumping up and licking my
face while the other put its head straight up my skirt.

'They're Richard's. Aren't they, like, brilliant?' she said. 'I'll just take them to

the car.'

'Won't I be late for the meeting?' I said desperately, holding on to the dog's

head between my knees and trying to push it away. She looked me up and down
as if to say, 'So?' and then disappeared, dragging the dogs.

By the time I got in to the office, therefore, the meeting had started and
everyone stared except Richard, whose portly form was clad in a strange green

woolen boilersuit.

'Come on, come on,' he was saying, jigging and beckoning the table towards
him with both hands. 'I'm thinking Nine o'clock Service. I'm thinking dirty
vicars. I'm thinking sexual acts in church. I'm thinking, why do women fall for
vicars? Come on. I'm not paying you for nothing. Have an idea.'