Page 216 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

4, cigarettes 10, calories 1876, minutes spent having imaginary conversations

with Daniel 24 (excellent), minutes spent imagining rerun of conversations with
mother in which I come out on top 94.

11:30 a.m. Why oh why did! give my mother a key to my flat? I was just-for the
first time in five weeks-starting a weekend without wanting to stare at the wall

and burst into tears. I'd got through a week at work. I was starting to think maybe
it was all going to be OK, maybe I wasn't necessarily going to be eaten by an
Alsatian when she burst in carrying a sewing machine.

'What on earth are you doing, silly?' she trilled. I was weighing out 100 grams

of cereal for my breakfast using a bar of chocolate (the weights for the scales are
in ounces which is no good because the calorie chart is in grams).

'Guess what, darling?' she said, beginning to open and shut all the cupboard
doors.

'What?' I said, standing in my socks and nightie trying to wipe the mascara
from under my eyes.

'Malcolm and Elaine are having the ruby wedding in London now, on the
twenty-third, so you will be able to come and keep Mark company.'

'I don't want to keep Mark company,' I said through clenched teeth. 'Oh. but
he's very clever. Been to Cambridge. Apparently he made a fortune in America .
. . '

'I'm not going.'

'Now, come along, darling, let's not start,' she said, as if I were thirteen. 'You
see, Mark's completed the house in Holland Park and he's throwing the whole
party for them, six floors, caterers and everything . . . What are you going to
wear?'