Monday 5 May
9st I (hurrah!), progress on hole in wall by Gary: none, progress on getting over Mark Darcy by fantasizing about Wild Boy: medium (hampered by eyelashes).
Got back to message from Gary. Said he got caught up on another job and as I was having second thoughts he thought there was no hurry. Claims he is going to sort everything out and come round tomorrow night. So you see, was worrying unnecessarily. Mmmm. Wild Boy. Maybe Jude and Shazzer are right. Have just to move on, not keep imagining Mark and Rebecca in different loving scenarios. Worry about lashes, though. How long, exactly? Fantasies of Wild Boy's lean, wild, devil body slightly spoilt by image of Wild Boy blinking under the weight of lengthy lashes like Walt Disney Bambi.
9 p.m. Got to 192 at 8.05, with Jude and Shaz in tow to sit at other table and keep eye on self. No sign of Wild Boy. Only man on own was horrible old creep in denim shirt, ponytail and sunglasses who kept staring at me. Where was Wild Boy? Gave creep filthy look. Eventually creep was staring so much decided to move. Started to get up then nearly jumped out of skin. Creep was holding up red rose. Stared at him aghast as he removed ridiculous sunglasses, smirking, to reveal Barbara Cartland-like pair of false eyelashes. Creep was Wild Boy. Rushed out in horror followed by Jude and Shazzer collapsing in giggles.
Tuesday 6 May
9st 2 (1lb phantom baby?), Mark thoughts: better, progress on hole in wall by Gary: static i.e. none.
7 p.m. V. depressed. Just left message for Tom to ask if he is mad too. Realize have to learn to love self and live in moment, not obsess but think of others and be complete in self but just feel awful. Really miss Mark so much. Cannot believe he is going to go out with Rebecca. What did I do? Obviously there is something wrong with me. Just getting older and older and is clear nothing is ever going to work out so might as well just accept am always going to be alone and never have any children. Oh look, must pull self together. Gary will be here soon.
7.30 p.m. Gary is late.
7.45 p.m. Still no sign of bloody Gary.
8 p.m. Still no Gary.
8.15 p.m. Gary has not bloody well turned up. Ooh, telephone, must be him.
8.30 p.m. Was Tom saying that he was very mad and so was the cat, which had started pooing on the carpet. Then he said something rather surprising.
"Bridge?" he said. "Do you want to have a baby with me?"
"What?"
"A baby."
"Why?" I said, suddenly getting alarming image of having sex with Tom.
"Well - - ." He thought for a minute. "I'd quite like to have a baby and see my line extended but, one, I'm too selfish to look after it and, two: I'm a pouf. But you'd be good at looking after it if you didn't leave it in a shop."
Love Tom. Is as if he sort of sensed the way I'm feeling. Anyway, he said to think about it. Is just an idea.
8.45 p.m. I mean why not? Could keep it at home in a little basket. Yes! Just imagine waking up in the morning with a lovely little creature next to me to snuggle up to and love. And we could do all things together like going to the swings and Woolworth's to look at the Barbie things and home would become a lovely peaceful baby-powder smelling haven. And if Gary turns up baby could sleep in spare bedroom. Maybe if Jude and Shazzer had babies too we could live in a community together and ... Oh shit. Have set wastebin on fire with fag end.
Saturday 10 May
9st 3 (phantom baby already gigantic, given age), cigarettes
7 (not necessary to stop for phantom pregnancy, surely?), calories 3,255 (eating for one plus tiny phantom), positive thoughts 4, progress on hole in wall by Gary: none.
11 a.m. Just been out for fags. Is suddenly, freakishly, really, really hot. Is fantastic! Some men are actually wandering round the streets in swimming trunks!
11.15 a.m. Just because it is summer is no reason life should fall into disarray with flat chaotic, in-tray ranging out of control, bad smells everywhere. (Ugh. Is really bad on stairs now.) Am going to change all this by spending today clearing up flat and doing in-tray. Must get things ordered ready to welcome new life into world.
11.30 a.m. Right. Will start by moving all piles of newspapers into one central pile.
11.40 a.m. Ugh, though.
12.15 p.m. Maybe will do in-tray first.
12.20 p.m. Clearly impossible without getting properly dressed.
12.25 p.m. Not keen on look in shorts. Too sporty somehow. Need little slippy dress thing.
12.35 P.m. Now where is it?