8.45 p.m. Yes! You see problem is have been living in fantasy world, constantly turning to past or future instead of enjoying present moment. Am just going to sit here and enjoy present moment.
9 p.m. Not enjoying present moment at all. Is hole in wall, stink on stairs, growing overdraft in bank and Mark is at dinner party with Rebecca. Maybe will open bottle of wine and watch ER.
10 p.m. Wonder if Magda is back yet. She promised to call me the second she got in with full report. Sure she will say Mark is not going out with Rebecca and he was asking about me.
11.30 p.m. Have just rung Magda's babysitter. They are not back yet. Have left message to remind her to ring.
11.35 p.m. Still hasn't rung. Maybe Rebecca's dinner party is fantastic triumph and they are all still there having riotous time climaxing with Mark Darcy standing on table announcing engagement to Rebecca ... Ooh, telephone.
"Hi, Bridge, it's Magda."
"So how was it?" I said, too quickly. "Oh, it was quite nice actually."
I flinched. Totally wrong thing to say, totally.
"She'd done grilled goat's cheese on a green salad and then penne carbonara only with asparagus instead of pancetta, which was lovely and then peaches baked in Marsala with mascarpone.
This was terrible.
"It was obviously Delia Smith but she denied it."
"Did she?" I said eagerly. This at least was good. He does not like people being pretentious. "And how was Mark?"
"Oh fine. He's a really nice chap, isn't he? Terribly attractive." Magda has no idea. No idea, none. Not to praise ex-boyfriends who have chucked one. "Oh and then she did orange peel coated in chocolate."
"Right," I said patiently. I mean honestly, if this were Jude or Shazzer they would have every nuance, ready and deconstructed. "And do you think he's going out with Rebecca?"
"Hmmm, I'm not sure. She was very flirty with him." Tried to remember about Buddhism and that at least have own spirit.
"Was he already there when you got there?" I said slowly and understandingly as if talking to a very confused two-year-old.
"Yes."
"And did he leave when everyone else did?"
"Jeremy!" she suddenly yelled at the top of her voice. "Was Mark Darcy still there when we left?"
Oh God.
"Mark Darcy what?" I heard Jeremy bellow, and then something else.
"Has he done it in the bed?" Magda yelled. "A wee or a poo? IS IT A WEE OR A POO? Sorry, Bridge, I'm going to have to go."
"Just one more thing," I gabbled. "Did he mention me?"
"Take it out of the bed - with your hands! Well, you can wash them, can't you? Oh for God's sake grow up. Sorry, Bridge, what was that?"
"Did he mention me?"
"Um. Urn. Oh fuck off, Jeremy." "Well?"
"To be honest, Bridge, I don't think he did."
Sunday 4 May
9st 2, alcohol units 5, cigarettes 9 (must stop slide into decadence), hatred poison plans to kill Rebecca 14, Buddhist shame at homicidal thoughts: extensive, Catholic guilt (even though not Catholic): growing.
My flat. Very bad day. Went round to Jude's earlier in zomboid state. She and Shaz were going on and on saying I had to get back on some kind of horse and started - frankly insultingly - leafing through the Time Out Lonely Hearts.