Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy

‘Honestly, men drivers!’ I thought, doing a V-sign at the man. (Apart from Leatherjacketman who am certain is very respectful.) ‘Oh, oh, look at us! We’re alpha males! We’re just going to bear down on defenceless women, bullying them into reversing.’


‘Mummy,’ said Billy. ‘The taxi has stopped so that that other car can get round us.’

Suddenly realized what Billy meant. The oncoming car was ALREADY THERE and the taxi driver, who is after all an experienced roadsman, was not stopping to let the already-oncoming car come past. And now I was like the alpha female SUV driver (except not in SUV) who had swerved round the experienced roadsman taxi driver and tried to drive the oncoming car backwards like an angry snow-plough brandishing an Oxbridge First in PPE (except Third in English from Bangor).

Tried to mouth ‘Sorreee!’ while reversing backwards, but the man glared at me with exactly the same disbelieving ‘what-is-the-world-coming-to?’ expression that I myself am so accustomed to adopting during the morning school run.

‘Well!’ I said brightly once we’d rounded the corner. ‘What lessons have we got today, Billy? PE?’

‘Mummy.’

I looked round at him. The same eyes. The same tone when I’m being not altogether at my best.

‘What?’ I said.

‘Are you just saying that because you feel silly?’

Friday 14 September 2012



DO NOT ALLOW HIM TO MAKE YOU GENERALLY DISTRACTED AND CRAZY

Just made contact with Aspirational Bohemian Neighbour and was so distracted that completely fucked it up. Was just walking back from car when saw her going into the house wearing a woollen hat with several points with bobbles on the end, platform Doc Martens and a garment which looked like cross between a German officer’s coat from the Second World War and a crinoline with a frill at the bottom.

‘Hello,’ she suddenly said, ‘I’m Rebecca. Don’t you live across the road?’

‘Yes,’ I said delightedly, then launched into a nervous monologue: ‘Your children look like they might be the same age as mine? How old are they? What a nice hat! . . .’

It all went very well and ended with Rebecca saying, ‘Well, maybe knock on the door and come for a play date – doesn’t-the-very-word-make-you-want-to-shoot-yourself? – sometime.’

‘Hahaaha! It does. Yes,’ I said, miming embarrassingly, shooting my own head. ‘That would be cool. Byeee!’ Then crossed the road and went into the house thinking, ‘Yayy! We can be friends and maybe I could introduce her to Leatherjacketman and . . .’

‘Wait!’ Rebecca suddenly called.

I turned.

‘Isn’t that your daughter?’

Shit! Had completely forgotten I had Mabel with me. She was standing, bemused, outside Rebecca’s house, abandoned on the pavement.

NOTICE HOW HE MAKES YOU FEEL. SOMEWHERE AMIDST LIST – ‘HORNY’, ‘TAKING STOMACH MEDICINE DUE TO ANXIETY’ – THERE SHOULD BE THE WORD ‘HAPPY’

9.15 p.m. Still no text. Whole Leatherjacketman scenario is making me horribly anxious with a sick feeling in my stomach.





THE NUMBER ONE KEY DATING RULE


Saturday 15 September 2012



DO NOT TEXT WHEN DRUNK

8.15 p.m. YAYY! Telephone!

9 p.m. ‘Oh, hello, darling!’ – my mother – shit! Tailspinned, wondering if Leatherjacketman could still send a text while Mum was on the phone.

‘Bridget? Bridget? Are you still there? Have you decided about the cruise?’

‘Um, well, I think it might be a bit—’

‘I mean, most people from St Oswald’s will be with their grandchildren. It is a special time of year, when people do spend it with the grandchildren. Julie Enderbury and Michael are taking the whole family to Cape Verde.’

‘Well, what about Una’s grandchildren?’ I counterpointed.

‘It’s the in-laws’ turn.’

Helen Fielding's books