Mad About the Boy (Bridget Jones 3)

‘Oh God. Yes, I’ll tell Sergei. Fuck knows what’s going on there. But, darling, I’m very proud of you for finishing.’

LET IT SNOW!

Thursday 17 January 2013

Texts about snow 12, tweets about snow 13, snowflakes 0.

8 p.m. Text from school.

8.15 p.m. Plain excitement. We can all bunk off and go sledging! Clearly no one can go to sleep. We keep opening the curtains to check if you can see it in the street lamps.

8.30 p.m. Still no snow.

8.45 p.m. Still no snow. Look, is really time the children went to sleep now.

9 p.m. Eventually got them to sleep by saying, ‘Go to sleep, go to sleep, if you don’t go to sleep you won’t be allowed to ENJOY the lovely snow!’ repeatedly like parrot. Obvious lie, as who else am I going to go in the snow with?

9.45 p.m. Still no snow. Maybe will check Twitter.

9.46 p.m. @_Roxster is tweeting about the snow!

9.50 p.m.

10 p.m. Tweet from @_Roxster!

10.15 p.m. Carried on flirting with @_Roxster.

Talitha joined in.

10.30 p.m. Mmmm. Love Twitter. Love feeling that there is someone else out there who cares about all the little exciting things you yourself get excited about.

11 p.m. Still no snow.

Friday 18 January 2013

Number of times checked for snow 12, snowflakes 0, tweets from @_Roxster 7, tweets pretending to be to all followers but actually to @_Roxster 6 (slightly less than him, v.g.)

7 a.m. Woke up and all rushed excitedly to the window. No snow.

7.15 a.m. Tempting to all stay in PJs for Snow Day, even if no snow, but forced self to force everyone, including self, to get dressed just in case School Snow Day text did not happen.

7.45 a.m. No text. Maybe tweet, though, from @_Roxster?

7.59 a.m. Still no school text. Still no tweet from @_Roxster. Trying to deal with own as well as everyone else’s disappointment, shoved three bacon-wrapped chipolatas in mouth, adding as an afterthought, ‘Anyone else want one?’

8 a.m. No text from school. We had better go.

9 a.m. Dropped off Mabel and got to Junior Branch to find infectious excitement, and Mr Wallaker organizing lines of boys crouching behind imaginary snow-walls and hurling imaginary snowballs at each other. Resisted temptation to tweet about scene to @_Roxster lest it put him off me that I have kids.

‘Snow today, Mrs Darcy!’ said Mr Wallaker, suddenly looming up beside us. ‘Going to be climbing trees?’

‘I know! I’ve been waiting for it all night,’ I said, smoothly ignoring the tree reference. ‘But where is it?’

‘On its way from the west! It’s snowing in Somerset. Do you enjoy snow?’

‘Punctual snow,’ I said darkly.

‘Maybe it’s been held up on the M4,’ he said. ‘It’s closed by snow at Junction 13.’