Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy (18 page)

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!

<
@_Roxster
Anyone else excited about the snow?>

9.50 p.m.
<
@JoneseyBJ
@_Roxster Me. But where is it? ‘Oh, oh, look at me! I’m snow but I don’t exist!’>

10 p.m.
Tweet from @_Roxster!

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Jonesey, are you twunking again? Or do you like snow as much as me?>

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

<
@JoneseyBJ
@_Roxster Are you getting fartaged in preparation?>

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Definitely.>

Talitha joined in. <
@Talithaluckybitch
@JoneseyBJ @_Roxster Very funny, you two. Now GO TO SLEEP.>

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.’

‘Oh!’ I said, brightening.

‘Wait,’ said Billy suspiciously. ‘How could snow be held up by snow?’

There was a slight twitch of amusement in Mr Wallaker’s eyes, then Billy’s face broke into a grin. It was really annoying, as if they were somehow sharing a joke at my expense.

‘Have a nice day!’ I said confusedly – we weren’t exactly in California – and slithered off through the ice to get on with my Twitter, I mean writing. Why did I put on high-heeled boots?

9.30 a.m.
Back home. Right!
The Leaves in His Hair
.

9.35 a.m.
Quickly tweeted @_Roxster, I mean my followers, Mr Wallaker’s joke.

9.45 a.m.
<
@JoneseyBJ
Apparently the snow has been held up by snow on the M4 but will be here shortly.>

10 a.m.
Five people have retweeted my tweet! Twelve more followers have come.

10.15 a.m.
Keeps saying, ‘WARNING! SNOW!’ on the telly.

10.30 a.m.
The snow has started!

11 a.m.
Is just getting thicker and thicker. Can’t stop going up to window to look out at it.

11.45 a.m.
Just keep staring at the miracle of the snow. Is like someone has beautifully drawn white shading on all the trees. Is an inch and a half thick on the table outside – like icing on a cake. Or cream . . . Maybe not an inch and a half. Consider going out with ruler to measure, then realize ridiculous. Must get on with myriad tasks.

Noon.
OMG is tweet from @_Roxster.

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Shall we bunk off work, get fartaged and go sledging??>

Blink at tweet in shock. Is @_Roxster actually asking me out? Does he mean it? But I’m looking completely crazed with hair standing up on end and . . . But I could wash my hair! And put on sledging things and you only live once and it’s snowing! Tweeted: <
@JoneseyBJ
@_Roxster Yes! Can you?>

Just as I had tweeted there was a text:

12.15 p.m.
What am I going to do? Cannot expect twenty-nine-year-old dream god to suddenly want to come sledging with two
children and older woman with mad hair. Whole point of older woman is you are supposed to be
soignée
in black silk stockings like in French-style parenting and Catherine Deneuve and Charlotte Rampling. Must go get children but how can I stand @_Roxster up, and the Dating Rules say it’s like dancing and you’re just meant to follow but . . .

Another text:

Is genuine emergency!!

12.30 p.m.
Rushed downstairs to get sledges out of cupboard, quickly wiping off spiders, etc.

12.50 p.m.
Opened door to see road was completely covered in snow. It is a major blizzard, clearly a very serious and dangerous situation! Wildly excited. But what about @_Roxster? Must put children first.

1 p.m.
OK, have got full ski gear on now, not sure if helmet is required but goggles certainly. Have thrown snow boots, salopettes, jackets, gloves, survival kit, shovel, torch, water, chocolate and sledges in back of car.

5 p.m.
Eventually got to school after thrilling slithery journey. Was necessary, even so, to take goggles off and put glasses on to check for @_Roxster tweets.

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Sorry, Jonesey – was being inauthentically devil-may-care. Have job cannot get out of to play in snow. Unlike, clearly, you.>

Crushed. Am stood up for snow date.

Waddled up hill into school, in manner of Lance Armstrong when landing on moon – I mean, Neil Armstrong – owing to ski pants on top of my jeans and jacket and everything, thinking, ‘OK, do not need
to reply to @_Roxster now as he has, technically speaking, stood me up for sledging. And I responded not reacted so have perfectly followed dating rules and—’

Burst through door into school hall, where the Infants and Juniors were gathered, to see Perfect Nicorette dressed as a sort of Snow Queen in white snow boots, perfectly blow-dried hair, enormous black patent handbag covered in bling, and long white coat with white fur thing draped around it, laughing flirtatiously with Mr Wallaker. Huh. Man-Tart. Married and flirting with Nicorette. Mr Wallaker turned as I walked in, and patently burst out laughing.

He wouldn’t laugh if he knew I had a possible sledging date with a toy boy, would he? Am Catherine Deneuve and Charlotte Rampling.

‘Mummeee!’ Billy and Mabel ran over, eyes shining. ‘Can we go sledging?’

‘Yes! I’ve got the sledges in the car!’ I said and, giving Mr Wallaker an imperious look, I pulled my goggles back over my eyes and swept mysteriously – as best I could given outfit – out of the hall.

10 p.m.
Fantastic day. Sledging was completely brilliant. Rebecca and everyone from over the road came up to Primrose Hill too and it was completely magical, really like a Christmas card. The snow was deep and fluffy and hardly anyone was up there at first and you could really get the sledge to go quite fast on the paths. And @_Roxster tweeted in the middle.

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Do you want to sledge later? Can make it tonight if you can.>

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Though worry re you in treacherous conditions. Would another night be better?>

Was too difficult to reply as fingers were frozen, had to put glasses on to read tweets and simultaneously run after sledges to stop collisions, etc., so just left it for a while, savouring the feeling of being the last one to receive a message and @_Roxster wanting to have a date with me!

As it got later, more and more people were on the Hill, and it
started getting icy so we all came back to our place, had hot chocolate and supper together and it was really very jolly, and while Rebecca was watching the kids I snuck off to my Twitter for five minutes, glancing briefly in the mirror and realizing tonight really would not be a good night for a date with a toy boy.

In the midst of all the incoherent stream of tweets about snow and the M4 there was another one from @_Roxster.

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Jonesey? Have you died in the snow?>

<
@JoneseyBJ
@_Roxster Nearly. Was epic off-piste powder. Another night would be great.>

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Any particular night?>

You see, straightforward, authentic communication! That’s the way. Tweeted back.

<
@JoneseyBJ
@_Roxster Let me consult my extremely full diary . . .>

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ You mean huge body of dating advice manuals?>

OMG. Was Roxster reading my tweets back in the days of Leatherjacketman?

<
@JoneseyBJ
@_Roxster *Smoothly ignoring impertinent young whippersnapper* When did you have in mind?>

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Tuesday?>

Headed back down to the kitchen beaming. Everything is marvellous! Have date with gorgeous, funny, hunky twenty-nine-year-old toy boy and house full of rosy-cheeked children, sweet-smelling food, sledges and willies (I mean wellies – where did that come from?).

DO NOT TWEET ABOUT DATE DURING DATE

Sunday 20 January 2013

Twitter followers 873, tweets from @_Roxster 7.

11 a.m.
Tweeting is going sensationally. More and more followers have come since the whole #twunkbirds thread thing. Cannot help noticing that Roxster has gone rather silent since the agreement about the date. But maybe, being a man, he feels that a level has been accomplished, as with Xbox, and there is no need to keep on at it.

11.02 a.m.
Actually had better just send a tweet to let everyone know what’s going on.

<
@JoneseyBJ
*Trills smugly, annoyingly, full-of-joys-of-spring-and I’ve-got-a-date-with-mysterious-stranger-off-Twitter* Morneeeeeing, everyone!>

11.05 a.m.
OMG, have lost two followers. Why? Why? Was there something in the
tone
? Had better send another one.

<
@JoneseyBJ
Sorry, have clearly turned off several followers with early-morning smugness. Obviously date will all go wrong and will be stood up.>

11.15 a.m.
Great, have lost three more followers. Must remember not to overtweet in the morning. Or maybe at all since seem to get more followers when do not tweet than when do tweet.

Roxster has tweeted! You see, this is my reward for epic self-control.

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ *Insulted, appalled* Stand you up, Jonesey??>

<
@JoneseyBJ
@_Roxster Roxster! You’re back!>

<
@JoneseyBJ
@_Roxster Was just trying to counteract boasty tone of previous tweet which had alienated followers. So you’re still on?>

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ Jonesey, I may be a youth but I am not a callow one, nor a charlatan.>

Then another: <
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ OK. How about I meet you outside Leicester Sq. tube @7.30? Then we could go to Nando’s. Or fish and chips?>

9.45 p.m.
Immediately went into meltdown. Leicester Sq. tube?? Leicester Sq. tube?? But it’s freezing. Then remembered the key dating rules.

JUST GO ALONG WITH WHATEVER HE SUGGESTS

<
@JoneseyBJ
@_Roxster *Purrs* Why, that would be delightful!>

<
@_Roxster
@JoneseyBJ *Growls* See you there, baby.>

You see? You see? So much better than trying to manipulate the situation.

9.50 p.m.
Suddenly in panic re meeting stranger off Twitter at Leicester Square tube when am single mother.

9.51 p.m.
Just called Tom, who is going to pop round.

10.50 p.m
Unfortunately, had to wait for opinion as Tom was having meltdown of his own about a Hungarian architect called Arkis. He insisted on showing all the texts and pictures and Arkis’s messages on the Scruff app on his iPhone. ‘Scruff is
so
much better than Grindr. It used to be Beardy but now it’s got more Fashion Beardy, small clothes and big glasses, but not in a George Michael sense.’