Page 291 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'I haven't been invited,' I mumbled. There is nothing worse than having to

admit to your mum that you are not very popular.

'Oh, darling, of course you've been invited. Everyone's going.'

'I haven't been.'

'Well, maybe you haven't worked there long enough. Anyway - '

'But, Mum,' I interrupted, 'you don't work there at all.'

'Well, that's different, darling. Anyway, Must run. Byeee!'

9 a.m. Brief moment of party oasis when an invitation arrived in the post but

turned out to be party mirage: invitation to a sale of designer eyewear.

11:30 a.m. Called Tom in paranoid desperation to see if he wanted to go out
tonight.

'Sorry,' he chirped, 'I'm taking Jerome to the PACT party at the Groucho
Club.'

Oh God, I hate it when Tom is happy, confident and getting on well with
Jerome, much preferring it when he is miserable, insecure and neurotic. As he
himself never tires of saying, 'It's always so nice when things go badly for other
people.'

'I'll see you tomorrow, anyway,' he gushed on, 'at Rebecca's.'

Tom has only ever met Rebecca twice, both times at my house, and I've
known her for nine years. Decided to go shopping and stop obsessing.