Helen Fielding - Bridget Jones - The Edge of Reason

9st 2, alcohol units 4 (but am journalist now so obviously must be drunk), cigarettes 5, calories 1,845 (g.), lights at end of tunnel 1 (v. tiny).

4 p.m. Tom just called me at work. "It's on!"

"What?" "The Colin Firth thing!"

I sat straight up in my chair, quivering.

"Yes! Jerome's friend called up and Colin Firth was really nice and said if you can place it in the Independent he'll do it. And I'm going out for dinner with Pretentious Jerome!"

"Tom, you're a saint, a God and an archangel. So what do I have to do?"

"Just ring up Colin Firth's agent and then call Adam at the Independent. Oh, by the way, I told them you'd done loads of stuff before."

"But I haven't."

"Oh, don't be so bloody literal, Bridgelene, just tell him you have."

9st 3 (v. unfair crimeless punishment), calories 1,200 (rest my case), mortgages 2 (hurrah!), number of bedrooms in flat: about to be 2 (hurrah!).

Have rung up bank and is fine about the second mortgage! All I have to do is fill in a few forms and stuff and then I can have E7,000 and it is only F-120 a month! Cannot believe have not thought of this before. Could have been answer to all my overdraft problems!

9st 4, calories 998 (bizarre calorie/fat inverse relationship seems to render food-restraint pointless), miracles: multiple, new-found joy: infinite.

5 p.m. Something strange is going on. Not only is Colin Firth interview happening but it is going to be in Rome! Next thing they will say interview is to take place naked in sea off Caribbean island in manner of Blind Date. Can understand God granting one favour to make up for everything but this, surely, is beyond all normal religious reason. Suggests life is peaking in some terrifying final way followed by rapid rush downhill towards untimely death. Maybe is belated April Fool.

Just called Tom who said stop always thinking there is a trick to everything and reason interview is taking place in Rome is that Colin Firth lives there - he is right - and to try to concentrate on fact that there are other things about Colin Firth apart from playing Mr Darcy. Like his new film Fever Pitch for example.

"Yup, yup, yup," I said, then told Tom was v. grateful for all his help in setting this up. "You see this is exactly what I needed!" I said excitedly. "I feel so much better now I'm concentrating on my career instead of obsessing about men."

"Er, Bridget," said Tom. "You do realize Colin Firth has a girlfriend, don't you?"

Humph.

9st 2, alcohol units 5 (journalism training), cigarettes 22, calories 3,844 (you see? You see? Am never going to diet again).

6 p.m. A wonderful thing has happened! Just spoke to PR lady and Colin Firth is going to call me at home over the weekend to arrange things! Cannot believe it. Obviously will not be able to go out of house all weekend but that is good as will be able to do research by watching Pride and Prejudice video, though obviously realize must talk about other projects as well. Yes. Actually this could be real turning point in career. You see ironically enough, in a spooky sixth sense meant-to-be-type way, Mr Darcy has made me forget obsession with Mark Darcy ... Telephone! Maybe Mr or Mark Darcy, must quickly put impressive jazz or classical record on.

Huh. Was bloody bossy man called Michael from Independent. "Now listen. We haven't used you before. I don't want any messing about with this. You come back on the plane we have booked for you on Monday night, you sit down with it on Tuesday morning and you hand it in by 4 o'clock or it won't go in. And you're asking him about the film Fever Pitch. Fever Pitch, in which, as you know, he plays a character who is not Mr Darcy."

Actually that is quite right. Ooh, telephone.

Was Jude. She and Shazzer are coming round. Fear they will make me laugh when Mr Darcy rings but on other hand need something to take mind off it or will burst.

9st 3 (but can definitely lose 3lbs before tomorrow using Hospital Frankfurter diet), alcohol units 3 (v. g.), cigarettes 2 (perfect saint-style person), Frankfurters 12, 1471 calls to see if not heard Colin Firth ring owing to sudden unnoticed deafness 7, sq. ft of floor space not covered in pizza boxes, outfit choices, ashtrays etc. 2 (under sofa), no. of times watched Pride and Prejudice video where Colin Firth dives into lake 15 (top-flight researcher), calls from Colin Firth 0 (so far).

10 a.m. Colin Firth hasn't rung.

10.03 a.m. Still hasn't rung.

10.07 a.m. Still hasn't rung. Wonder if is too early to wake Jude and Shazzer up? Maybe he is waiting till his girlfriend has gone out shopping to ring me.

5 p.m. Flat looks like bomb has hit it, due to Mr Darcy stakeout: all sprawled all over sitting room like in Thelma and Louise when Thelma's house is taken over by police and Harvey Keitel is waiting for them to ring with tape recorders whirring in background. Really appreciate Jude and Shazzer's support and everything, but means have not been able to get on with preparation, apart from physical.

6 p.m. Mr Darcy still has not rung.

6.05 p.m. Still has not rung. What am I supposed to do? Do not even know where am meeting him.

6.15 p.m. Still has not rung. Maybe girlfriend has just refused to go out shopping. Maybe they have just been having sex all weekend and sending out for Italian ice cream and just laughing at me behind my back.

6.30 p.m. Jude suddenly woke up and put her fingertips on her forehead.

"We must go out," she said in a strange, Mystic Megstyle voice.

"Are you mad?" hissed Sharon. "Go out? Have you gone out of your mind?"

"No," said Jude coldly. "The reason the phone isn't ringing is there is too much energy focused on it."

"Phwnaw," snorted Sharon.

"Apart from anything else it has started to stink in here. We need to clean up, let the energy flow, then go out and have a Bloody Mary," she said, looking at me temptingly.

Minutes later we were outside, blinking in the unexpectedly spring-like not-dark-yet air. I made a sudden bolt back towards the door but Shazzer grabbed me.

"We are going. For. A. Bloody. Mary," she hissed, marching me along the road like a big policeman. Fourteen minutes later we were back. I flung myself

across the room and froze. The light was flashing on the answerphone.

"You see," said Jude in a horrible smug voice. "You see." Tremulously, as if it were an unexploded bomb, Shazzer reached forward and pressed ANSWER PLAY.

"Hello, Bridget, this is Colin Firth." We all jumped a foot backwards. It was Mr Darcy. The same posh, deep, can't-be-bothered voice that he proposed to Elizabeth Bennet in on the BBC. Bridget. Me. Mr Darcy said Bridget. On my answerphone.

"I gather you're coming to Rome to interview me on Monday," he went on. "I was calling to arrange somewhere to meet. There's a square called the Piazza Navona, sort of easy place to find in a taxi. I'll meet you about 4.30 by the fountain. Have a safe journey."

"1471, 1471," gabbled Jude, "1471, quick, quick. No, get the tape out, get the tape out!"

"Call him back," screamed Sharon like an SS torturer. "Call him back and ask him to meet you in the fountain. OhmyGod."

The phone had rung again, we stood there rigid, mouths open. Then Tom's voice boomed out, "Hello, you pretty little things, it's Mr Darcy here just calling to see if anyone could help me out of this wet shirt."

Shazzer suddenly de-tranced. "Stop him, stop him," she screamed, flinging herself at the receiver. "Shut up, Tom, shut up, shut up, shut up."

But it was too late. My answerphone recording of Mr Darcy saying the word Bridget and asking me to meet him in Rome by a fountain has been lost for ever. And there is nothing anyone in the world will ever be able to do about it. Nothing. Nothing.