9st I (P.g.), alcohol units 3, cigarettes 12, no. of days to Valentine's Day 11, no. of minutes spent obsessing about feminist wrongness of obsessing re: Valentine's Day 162 approx. (bad).
8.30 a.m. Hope Dad is going to be OK. If Mum is going on Saturday that means she will be leaving him on his own for Valentine's Day, which is not very nice. Maybe 1 will send him a card, as if from a mystery admirer.
Wonder what Mark will do? Sure he will send a card, at least.
I mean definitely, he will. And maybe we will go out for dinner or other treat. Mmmm. V. nice to have boyfriend on Valentine's Day for once. Ah, telephone.
8.45 a.m. Was Mark. He is going to New York tomorrow for two weeks. He sounded a bit unfriendly actually, and said he was too busy to meet up tonight because he had to get all his papers and everything together.
Managed to be nice about it and just said, "Oh that's nice," waiting till had put phone down to yell "But it's Valentine's Day a week on Friday, it's Valentine's Day. Baaaaaaahl'
Anyway. That is just immature. Thing that matters is the relationship, not cynical marketing ploys.
Tuesday 4 February
8 a.m. In cafe having cappuccino and chocolate croissant. There, you see! Have got self out of negative thoughtbog, and actually is probably very good that Mark is going away. Will give him chance to spring away like a Martian rubber band, as it says in Mars and Venus on a Date, and really feel his attraction. Also will give me chance to work on myself and catch up with own life.
Plan For When Mark is Away
1. Go to gym every day.
2. Have lots of lovely evenings with Jude and Shazzer.
3. Do continuing good work sorting out flat.
4. Spend time with Dad when Mum is away.
5. Really work hard at work to improve position.
Oh. Lose half stone, also, obviously.
Noon. Office. Peaceful morning, Was given an item to do on green cars. "That's environmentally green, Bridget," said Richard Finch, " not green coloured."
Became clear early on green car item would never make it, leaving self free to fantasize re: Mark Darcy and design new headed stationery for self using different fonts and hues while thinking up new item ideas that would really bring me to the forefront of ... Gaaah!
12.15 p.m. Was bloody Richard Finch yelling: "Bridget. This isn't arseing Care in the Community. It is a television production office meeting. If you must stare out of the window, at least try to do it without sliding that pen in and out of your mouth. So can you do that?"
"Yes," I said sulkily, putting the pen down on the table. "No, not can you take the pen out of your mouth, can you find me a Middle-England, middle-class voter, fifty plus, own home, who is in favour?"
"Yes, no problem," I breathed airily, thinking I could ask Patchouli in favour of what later.
"In favour of what?" said Richard Finch.
I gave him a really quite enigmatic smile. "I think you might find you've answered your own question there," I said. "Male or female?"
"Both," said Richard sadistically, "one of each." "Straight or gay?" I exoceted back.
"I said Middle England," he snarled witheringly. "Now get on the bloody phone, and try to remember to put a skirt on in future, you're distracting my team."
Honestly, as if they would take any bloody notice as they are all obsessed with their careers and it is not that short, it had just ridden up.
Patchouli says it is in favour of the European or single currency, Which she thinks means either. Oh fuck, A fuck. Right. Ah, telephone. That'll be the Shadow Treasury press office.
12.25 p.m. oh, hello, darling." Grrr. Was my mother. "Listen, have you got a 'boob tube'?"
"Mum, I've told you not to ring me at work unless it's an emergency," I hissed.
"Oh I know, but you see the problem is we're going on Saturday and the shops are still full of their winter things," Suddenly, I had an idea. It took a while to get it through.
"Honestly, Bridget," she said after I explained. "We don't want lorries coming from Germany taking all our gold away in the night."
"But Mum, as you say, life is for living! You've got to try everything."
Silence. "It will help the currency of the African people." Not sure if this was strictly true but never mind.
"Well, that may well be, but I haven't got time for TV appearances when I'm trying to pack."
"Listen," I hissed, "do you want the boob tube or not"'
12.40 p.m. Hurrahs Have managed to get not one, not two but three Middle-England voters. Una wants to come up with Mum so they can go through my wardrobe and pop into Dickens and Jones, and Geoffrey wants to be on the television. Am top-flight researcher.
"So! Busy, are we?" Richard Finch was looking all postluncheon sweaty and swaggery. "Planning the Jones version of the really effective single currency plan, are we?"
"Well, not quite," I murmured with a cool self-deprecating smile. "But I have got you your Middle-England voters who are pro. Three of them, actually," I added casually while rifling through my "notes'.
"Oh, didn't anyone tell you?" he said, smirking evilly. "We've dropped it. We're doing bomb scares now. Can you get me a couple of Tory commuters from Middle England who can see the IRA's argument?"
8 p.m. Ugh. Spent three hours in wind-whipped Victoria trying to manipulate commuters" opinions in direction of IRA to point where began to fear immediate arrest and transfer to Maze Prison. Got back to office worrying what Mum and Una would find in my wardrobe, to guffawing conversation with Richard Finch along lines of 'You didn't really think you were going to find anyone, did you? Sucker!'
Have got to, got to find another job. Ooh goody, telephone.
Was Tom. Hurrah! He is back! "Bridget! You've lost so much weight!"
"Have I?" I said delighted, before remembering observation was being made down telephonic line.
Tom then went into great long enthuse about his trip to San Francisco.
"The boy on customs was completely divine. He said, "Anything to declare?" I said, "Only this outrageous tan!" Anyway, he gave me his number and I shagged him in a bathhouse!"
Felt familiar flash of envy at ease of gay sex, where people seem to shag each other immediately just because they both feel like it and nobody worries about having three dates first or how long to leave it before phoning afterwards.
After forty-five minutes outlining increasingly outrageous escapades he went, "Anyway, you know how I hate talking about me. How are you? How's that Mark guy, with his firm little buttocks?"
Told him Mark was in New York but decided to leave Rabbitboy till later for fear of over-arousing him. Chose instead to bore on about work.
"I've got to find another job, it's really undermining my sense of personal dignity and self-esteem. I need something that will allow me to make serious use of my talents and abilities."
"Hmmm. I see what you mean. Have you thought about going on the game?"
"Oh very funny."
"Why don't you do some journalism on the side? Do some interviews in your spare time?"
Was really brilliant idea. Tom said he was going to talk to his friend Adam on the Independent about giving me an interview or a review to do or something!
Am going to be top-flight journalist and gradually build up more and more work and extra money so can give up job and merely sit on sofa with laptop on knee. Hurrah!
Wednesday 5 February
Just called Dad to see how he was and if he would like to do something nice on Valentine's Day.
"Oh you are good, m'dear. But your mother said I need to expand my consciousness."