"The baroness in The Sound of Music," said Jude, sheepishly.
Unfortunately, by the time we turned our attention back to it the game appeared to be over.
Next thing Mark rang.
"What happened?" he said excitedly.
"Um . . ." I said, gesturing wildly at Jude and Shazzer who looked completely blank.
"You did watch it, didn't you?"
"Yes, of course, football's coming home, it's coming." I sang, vaguely remembering this was something to do with Germany.
"So why don't you know what happened then? I don't believe you."
"We did. But we were..."
"What?"
"Talking," I finished lamely.
"Oh God." There was a long silence. "Listen, do you want to go to Rebecca's?"
I looked from Jude to Shaz, frantically. One yes. One no. And a yes from Magda.
"Yes," I said.
"Oh great. It'll be fun, I think. She said to bring a swimsuit."
A swimsuit! Doom. Dooooooooom.
On way home, discovered same lot of workmen tumbling pissed out of pub. Put nose in air and decided did not care whether they whistled or not but just as walked past was huge cacophony of appreciative noises. Turned round, pleased to give them a filthy look only to find they were all looking the other way and one of them had just thrown a brick through the window of a Volkswagen.
Saturday 22 February
9st 5 (honing), alcohol units 3 (best behaviour), cigarettes
2 (huh), calories 10,000 (probably: suspected Rebecca sabotage), dogs up skin 1 (constantly).
Gloucestershire. Turns out Rebecca's parents" "country cottage" has stable blocks, outbuildings, pool, full staff and its own church in the "garden'. As we scrunched across the gravel, Rebecca - snooker-ball-bottomed in jeans in manner of Ralph Lauren ad - was playing with a dog, sunlight dappling her hair, amongst an array of Saab and BMW convertibles.
"Emma! Get down! Hiiiiil" she cried, at which dog broke free and put its nose straight up my coat.
"Mwah, come and have a drink," she said welcoming Mark as I wrestled with the dog's head.
Mark rescued me, shouting, "Emma! Here!" and chucking the stick, so the dog brought it back, tail wagging. "Oh, she adores you, don't you, darling, don't you, don't you, don't you?" Rebecca cooed, fussing the dog's head like it was her and Mark's first-born baby.
My mobile rang. Tried to ignore it.
"I think that's yours, Bridget," said Mark. I took it out and pressed the button. "Oh, hello, darling, guess what?"
"Mother, what are you ringing me on my mobile for?" I hissed, watching Rebecca leading Mark away.
"We're all going to Miss Saigon next Friday! Una and Geoffrey and Daddy and I and Wellington. He's never been to a musical before. A Kikuyu at Miss Saigon. Isn't that fun? And we've got tickets for you and Mark to join us!
Gaah! Musicals! Strange men standing with their legs apart bellowing songs straight ahead.
By the time I got into house Mark and Rebecca had disappeared and was nobody around except the dog, which put its nose up my coat again.