Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy(62)
‘I think they went upstairs. Come here.’
He hugged me against his muscly shoulders. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s just funny.’
‘I make such a bugger of things.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he whispered. ‘Fires, insect plagues, sort of thing which can happen to anyone.’ We started kissing. ‘We’d better stop this,’ he said, ‘or we’ll have more burning sausages to extinguish.’
We went upstairs in search of the children, to find they had calmly gone to their bedroom and were playing with their dinosaurs.
‘Well! Shall we go to school?’ I said brightly.
‘OK,’ said Billy, as if nothing at all unusual had happened.
So the motley crew of me, Billy, Mabel and Roxster emerged from the front door to be greeted by an uptight lady from up the road who looked suspiciously and said, ‘Have you had a fire?’
‘You betcha, baby,’ said Roxster. ‘Bye, Billy. Bye, Mabel.’
‘Bye, Roxster,’ they said cheerfully at which he patted me on the bottom and headed off to the tube.
But now, maybe I am having a panic attack. Does this mean things are moving to a more serious level? And surely is inadvisable to have Roxster bond with the children in case . . . Maybe I will text him and invite him to Talitha’s party!
10.35 a.m. Impulsively sent text: <Talitha has invited you to her glamorous 60th birthday party on May 24th. Will be v. glam with LOTS OF FOOD! Do you fancy going?> – but now instantly regretting.
10.36 a.m. No reply. Did not mention had remembered was Roxster’s thirtieth same night (lest thought self stalker-esquely focused on him), but why did I say sixtieth? Why? What could be more off-putting? Why cannot one delete sent texts?
10.40 a.m. Roxster has not replied. Gaah! Telephone! Maybe Roxster is calling to break up with me for having sixty-year-old friend.
11 a.m. Was George from Greenlight. Had rather testy conversation which seemed to go, in the space of a few minutes, from George being in a limousine, to George being in a gift shop, to George getting on a plane whilst simultaneously giving me notes on the rewrite and saying things like, ‘No! Don’t wrap it up! I’ve got a plane to catch, actually do wrap it.’
In the end I said, hoity-toitily, as I opened another text from Roxster, ‘George, I’m actually finding it rather difficult to make sense of your notes when you seem so distracted.’
But I’m not sure he heard this because his phone cut out.
Hurrah. Text from Roxster said: <I can’t think of a better way to celebrate my 30th than Talitha’s 60th, especially if the food will be as good as you say it will. As long as we can celebrate my birthday properly in your boudoir afterwards.>
And then another saying: <Can we have dinner again at home? Shepherd’s pie.>
<Yes, Roxster.>
And another.
<I heart shepherd’s pie.>
<I know, Roxster.> I texted patiently.
And another.
< Just to be absolutely clear, you really mean two dinners? Counting the party?>
THE TROUBLE WITH SUMMER
Tuesday 7 May 2013
136lb (oh no, oh no, disaster), outfits suitable for summer 0, outfits suitable for modern world 1 (navy silk dress).
9.31 a.m. Summer is here! Finally, the sun is out, the trees are in blossom and everything is marvellous. But oh no! My upper arms are not ready.
9.32 a.m. Also feel familiar sense of panic that must make the most of it as it might be the last and only sunny day of the year. And what about the summer season coming up when everyone will be going to festivals in Effortless Festival Chic like Kate Moss or to Ascot dressed like Kate Middleton and wearing a fascinator? I haven’t got any summer events to go to or a fascinator.
9.33 a.m. Oh, phew. It’s started raining again.
Wednesday 8 May 2013
9.30 a.m. School run has become impossible outfit obstacle. It is that confusing time before summer has got its confidence going, when you keep leaving the house either in winter woollies, at which it turns out to be sunny and 26 degrees, or wearing a floaty summer dress, and then it starts hailing, leaving you freezing to death whilst noticing your toenail polish is revolting. Must turn attention to clothes and grooming. Also writing.
Thursday 9 May 2013
7 p.m. Gaah! Just watched Good Luck Charlie on Disney Channel with Mabel and realized the mum in Good Luck Charlie wears outfits exactly like I have been wearing all winter – apart from the navy silk dress: black jeans tucked into boots, or tight black flared sweatpants when at home, a white scoop-necked vest and a V-necked sweater on top in either black, grey or some other muted colour. Has what I thought was my monochrome, slightly edgy dressing become, in Mabel’s eyes, the equivalent of Mum and Una’s former Country Casuals two-pieces? Maybe will try to be more eclectic, like Good Luck Charlie teenage daughter.
Monday 13 May 2013
Minutes spent on outfit websites 242, minutes spent looking at Yahoo! stories 27, minutes spent arguing with Mr Wallaker 12, minutes spent listening to Jude 32, minutes spent on homework chart 52, minutes spent doing any work whatsoever 0.
9.30 a.m. Right. Must get down to some serious writing now, but will just have a quick look at websites for River Island, Zara and Mango, etc. to get ideas for updated summer outfits.
12.30 p.m. Right! Work! Will just check Unexploded Email Inbox.