Bridget Jones's Diary

Sometimes in life you are drawn to someone like an irresistible force-field, magnet, fever or similar. At door was attractive stranger - 'Dermot' - with thick, wild hair and Irish accent ...

Thursday 27 March

9st 1 (doom doooooooooooooom); cigarettes 22; mini-eggs 125 (@ 15 calories each = 1,875). Oh. What if Government put calorie VAT on Easter eggs and forced manufacturers to put extra 17.5 per cent calories into each mini- egg? Hmm.

9am Is absolutely fine about not going away for Easter. Will be really nice to have restful few days in London.

9.10am Oh God. Sun is shining. Cannot face humiliating Easter in outside world full of Smug Marrieds bundling Easter eggs, children, crocuses and pet ducklings into BMW estates ready to zoom off to country cottage idylls, hiding painted boiled eggs in Agas. While I will spend entire weekend lying in bed thinking about sex, eating Bombay mix and chain-smoking. Maybe can go stay with Magda and Jeremy and pretend to be their offspring from an earlier marriage. Wonder if it is too early to ring Magda?

9.30am Right, am going to ring Magda now and just casually ask what are they doing for Easter.

Humph. "Bridget! No, of course you didn't wake me up, you bloody - it's half past nine in the morning and I've got two kids. What? We're going to Greg and Honey's in Gloucestershire, the Horlickses and Geoff and Pippa. Fifteen kids! Want to swap?"

Grrr. Why do they keep having their holidays all the time, to torture singletons? So you cannot just enjoy hanging around as normal, but think ought to be doing something, and that everyone else is sitting round farmhouse tables from Conran anyway. Ooh, telephone.

Was Jude, fed up because she and Vile Richard had made plans to go to Istanbul for Easter in manner of split-up people who to all intents and purposes are still going out with each other, but Vile Richard now says he is working.

10 am. Hurrah! Shazzer is not doing anything either so we can have some fun.

Oops. Better go to work.

Good Friday

10am Hurrah! We have rented a cottage in Cotswolds for Easter in manner of Smug Marrieds. Are even considering hosting Sunday lunch - couscous! - or having elegant soiree.

11am Plan has turned ill-fated. Had just loaded up car with outfits and set off when Incident occurred: slow motion, horrifying and incredible. It was Vile Richard's jacket I saw first, then fact that he was with a girl who was not Jude, then that he was laughing, then that girl was putting her arm in his. Looked at Jude in complete horror who said, with the smiley calm of people about to commit suicide in Nike trainers and go and live in a comet: "It's all right; I've seen. It's fine."

4pm Nothing is fine. Cottage is cottage from Hell. Were greeted by note saying we must not shout, smoke, entertain or interfere with "antiques", antiques being as follows:

1. Habitat pine sofa circa 1972 with dirty orange cushions;

2. Indescribably filthy beanbag;

3. Plastic threepenny-bit-shaped mock-historic coffee-table;

4. Electric bar heater;

5. Bronze-and-black picture of horse in plastic frame.

On viewing the room Jude burst into tears and yelled "Bastard! Bloody bastard. He said he couldn't come to Istanbul because he was working and he rang me from a phone box to say his phone was broken and he obviously was going to meet her and shag her all night, shag shag shag."

5 pm. Smoking ban has been unilaterally lifted. Bloody Marys consumed: three each.

Scenarios constructed by Jude:

1. Vile Richard had been going out with Trollope From Hell all the time he and Jude were going out, which is why he could not commit.

2. Trollope From Hell is 15.

3. Vile Richard is not working but taking the TFH on romantic mini-break.

4. Vile Richard broke his phone on purpose by hurling it to the ground so Jude would not find out.

5. They were going to eat croissants and drink cappuccinos in the same cafe he and Jude used to go to every morning, laughing uproariously at her, then going on to H Samuel to buy engagement ring followed by trip to Sussex to meet her parents. As Shaz and I tried to explain, Daughter of Satan could easily be a young cousin he had bumped into on the way to the cafe, or a prostitute, but as Jude pointed out, what was he doing looking happy? No way round it. Unforgivable crime in ex at any time. Ooh, doorbell!

6.30pm Sometimes in life you are drawn to someone like an irresistible force-field, magnet, fever, or similar. At door was attractive stranger - "Dermot" - with thick, wild hair, who said in Irish accent he was staying across courtyard and could he borrow some matches? Anyway, do not know how but next thing we were suddenly kissing each other against wall of porch. Was completely passionate - sort of thing believed had died out through over-analysis due to self-help books. Just then door to living- room opened.

"Bridget! For God's sakes, what are you doing?" It was Jude. Absolutely livid. Then the payphone rang and now Shaz and I have to wait upstairs in disgrace.

9pm Hurrah. Was Vile Richard on phone asking if he could come and stay, at which Jude gave him vicious tongue pie about teenage prostitute fiancee, who turned out to be sister-in-law with flat battery with whom he was going to get jump leads. Next thing Dermot came back with friend called Patrick who seems to be getting on really well with Shaz, and bottle of potato liqueur. Turning into charming Good Friday soiree. Maybe will do couscous.

1am Argor is blurfantasticpardy. LoveEasbunnynDermot. HapEestereverybod.