Helen Fielding - Bridget Jones - The Edge of Reason

"Yes," I said in a small voice. "What's the matter?"

Mumbled something about the hole in the wall and Mark.

"The thing is, Bridge. You've got to Attain Closure on that one and move on," she said, seemingly not noticing that her last lot of advice had completely failed, which might just invalidate this.

"You've got to start working on Loving Yourself Come on, Bridge! It's fantastic. We can shag whoever we want."

"Singletons hurrah!" I said. So why am I depressed? Am going to call Tom again.

8 p.m. Out. Everyone is out enjoying themselves except me.

9 p.m. Just read a bit of You Can Heal Your Life and now see exactly where have been going wrong. As Sondra Ray, the great re-birther, said, or maybe it wasn't her. Any-way, this is it: 'Love is never outside ourselves, love is within us.'

Yes!

'What may be keeping love away? ... Unreasonable standards? Movie Star Images? Feelings Of unworthiness? A belief that you are unloveable?'

Huh. Is not belief is fact. Am going to open bottle of Chardonnay and watch Friends.

11 p.m. Road Less Travelled blurry good. Is cathexis or similar. 'Unitary division Of love include self love if love for another.' Sblurry good. Ooof. Tumbled over.

9st 4, alcohol units 7 (hurrah!), cigarettes 27 (hurrah!), calories 4,248 (hurrah!), gym visits 0 (hurrah!).

7 a.m. Aargh. Who set that bloody thing off?

7.05 a.m. Today I will take responsibility for my own life and start loving myself. I am lovely. I am marvellous. Oh God. Where's the Silk Cut?

7.10 a.m. Right. Going to get up and go to gym.

7.15 a.m. Actually, though, it is probably quite dangerous to work out before you have properly woken up. Will jar joints. Will go tonight before Blind Date. is stupid to go in the daytime on Saturday when there is so much to do e.g. shopping. Must not mind that Jude and Shaz are both probably in bed shagging wildly, shag, shag, shag.

7.30 a.m. Shag.

7.45 a.m. Obviously it is too early for anyone to ring. Just because I am awake does not mean anyone else is. Must learn to have more empathy with others.

8 a.m. Jude just rang but practically impossible to tell as total sheep-voice sobbing, gulping experience.

"Jude, what's wrong?" I said, devastated.

"I'm having a breakdown," she sobbed. "Everything seems black, black. I can't see any way out I can't ... "

"It's all right. It's going to be all right," I said, staring

wildly out of the window to see if there was a psychiatrist passing. "Does it feel serious or is it just PMT?"

"It's very, very bad," she said in a zombie-like voice. "It's been building up in me for about eleven years." She broke down again. "The whole weekend stretching ahead alone, alone. I just don't want to carry on living."

"Good, that's good," I said reassuringly, wondering whether I should ring the police or the Samaritans.

Turned out Stacey had inexplicably just dropped her off after dinner last night and not mentioned seeing her again. So now she felt she'd failed at Thursday's snog.

"I'm SO depressed, The whole weekend stretching ahead- Alone alone, I could die and. . ."

"Do you want to come round tonight?"

"Oooh, yes please!! Shall we go to 192? 1 can wear my new Voyage cardi."

Next thing Tom rang.

"Why didn't you call me back last night?, I said.

"What?" he said in a strange, dull monotone.

"You didn,t call me back."

"Oh," he said wearily. "I didn't think it was fair to talk to anyone."

"Why?" I said, puzzled.

"Oh. Because I have lost my former personality and become a manic-depressive."

It turned out Tom has been working alone at home all week, obsessing about Jerome, Eventually helped Tom to realize that the phantom madness was quite funny, given that if be hadn't informed me he was clinically insane I wouldn't have noticed any difference.

I reminded Tom of when Sharon once didn't come out Of the house for three days because she thought her face was collapsing from sun damage like a movie ageing special effect and didn't want to face anyone or expose herself to UVP rays till she'd privately come to terms with it. Then when she came to Cafe Rouge she looked exactly like she did the week before. Managed, finally, to get off the subject of Tom and on to my career as a major celebrity interviewer which unfortunately seems to be over, for the time being at least.

"Don't worry, babe," said Tom. "They'll have forgotten all about it in ten minutes, you'll see. You can make a comeback."

2.45 p.m. Feeling much better now. Have realized answer is not to obsess about own problems but help others. Have just spent an hour and fifteen minutes on phone cheering up Simon who was clearly not in bed with Shazzer. Turns out he was supposed to see this girl called Georgie tonight, who he has been intermittently secretly shagging on Saturday nights, but now Georgie says she doesn't think Saturday night is a good idea because it seems too much like they are an 'item'.

"I'm a love pariah doomed by the gods always to be alone," Simon raged. "Always, always. The whole of Sunday stretching ahead."

As I told him, it is great being single because we are free! Free! (Somehow hope Shaz does not find out exactly how free Simon is, though.)

3 p.m. Am marvellous: have been almost like therapist all day. As I said to Jude and Tom, any time day or night they can call me, not just be sad on their own. So you see I am very wise and well-balanced almost in manner of the Mother Superior in The Sound of Music. In fact can easily imagine self singing 'Climb Every Mountain' at wall in middle of 192 with Jude kneeling appreciatively behind.

4 p.m. Phone just rang. Was Shazzer on verge of tears but trying to pretend she wasn't. Turns out Simon just called her with the Georgie scenario (v, annoying as obviously own Mother Superior act was not sufficient for the, now realize, emotionally greedy Simon).

"But I thought you were 'just good friends'?" I said.

"So did I," she said. "But I now realize I was just secretly fantasizing that we were in a higher form of love. It,s just awful being single," she burst out. "No one to put their arm round you at the end of the day, no on, to help you mend the boiler. The whole weekend stretching ahead! Alone! Completely alone!"

4.30 p.m. Hurrah! Everyone is coming round, Shaz, Jude and Tom (though not Simon as in disgrace for Mixed messages), and we are going to get an Indian takeaway and watch videos of ER. Love being single as you can have fun with all different People and life is full of freedom and Potential.

6 p.m. A terrible thing has happened. Magda just called, "Put it back in the potty, Put it back in! Listen, I don't know if I should tell you this, Bridge, but Put it back. Put the Ploppy BACK IN!"

"Magda..." I said dangerously.

"Sorry, hon. Look, I just rang to tell You that Rebecca ... now look that's really nasty, isn't it? Yakky! Yakky! Say yakky."

"WHAT?"

"Mark's coming home next week. She's invited us to a Post-election welcome back dinner for him and ... NOOOOOOO! OK, OK, put it in my hand."

I stumped dizzily at the kitchen table fumbling for a cigarette.

"All right. Put it in Daddy's hand, then. The thing is, Bridge, would you rather we said yes or are you doing another one? Well, do it in the potty, then. In the potty!"

"Oh God," I said. "Oh God."

6.30 p.m. Am going out for fags.

7 p.m. Whole of London is full of couples holding hands in spring, shagging each other shag, shag, shag, and planning lovely mini-breaks. Am going to be alone for rest of life. Alone!

8 p.m. Everything is turning out fantastic. Jude and Tom came round first with wine and magazines and were taking piss out of me for not knowing what a pashmina was. Jude decided Stacey had a big bum and also kept putting his hand on hers and saying 'Happee?,' which she had not revealed before and definitely meant he was out of the window.