Thursday 15th, April

Bags of spinach: 5, Burned walnuts: A lot, Pieces of chocolate consumed during stressful cooking: 21

2 p.m. Cannot believe this. Potluck dinner preparation has turned into nightmare. The dress-code (yes, there is an actual dress-code) is 'upscale casual' which translates to 'it's bloody classy, but tone is implied not shoved down throats.' Have decided to make Spinach salad with duck confit and roasted walnuts. Simple enough, I think, except walnuts keep burning up instead of toasting nicely.

2: 30 p.m. Call from Mark. "Er…Bridget, you do realize that Marvin is there to help you should you need anything? I know that cooking can be very stressful and to tell you the truth, nobody really cooks their own dishes to these dinners," he laughed. "Actually, Marvin used to make our potluck dishes all the time. Christine couldn't tell the difference between cornstarch and flour."

Hmm. V. lovely of him to be giving me advice, but v. unnecessary for him to mention the C word.

4 p.m. Emergency apparel crisis. What to wear? What deems to be "upscale casual" anyway? Perhaps should Google images.

4: 30 p.m. Mmm…Marvin has made lovely sweet raisin buns and sticky toffee pudding. Must not be too dependent on him though. Must remain independent and good example of multi-tasking modern woman. Bridge Jones is super-wife! Then…super-mum!

6 p.m. Hair crisis. Must appear calm with lots of inner poise, radiant as Mark's fiancée, not unkempt and without pantyhose. What was it that Gandhi once said? "Always aim at complete harmony of thought and word and deed." Yes, that is what I shall do now.

Maybe should do some yoga for some relaxation.

6:30 p.m. Buggar! Hair is still crap.

7 p.m. "Tibby just had botox, darling," Lala lowered her voice to a whisper as she greeted Mark and myself. "Mind you not ask her about it, but pretend it's her natural face."

The entire room was full of pearls and stiff collars. There was a hint of gossip whispering around, not to be entirely unexpected, I suppose.

"You must be Bridget," a heavy lidded dark brunette extended a hand. She pointed to a man beside her, whom I presumed to be her husband. "I'm Brenda and this is Corey, he worked with Mark on some Swedish International Seminar last summer----"

"Sports injury liability workshop," Corey murmured.

"---and he has just bought me this for our anniversary, isn't it precious?" she flashed a beautiful sparkling ring in my face, her face just fishing for compliments.

"It's beautiful," I said honestly.

She swooned and then took my arm. "That's Vanessa Cleary," Brenda said quietly, indicating a rather porky woman holding a glass of champagne, giving a half attempted smile at no one in particular. "She is rarely sober and that's her third drink in her hand now. Mr. Cleary comes home on Thursdays and Saturdays, only. Makes you wonder, don't you think? I think he refuses to divorce her because he works for her father. Dreadful situation."

7: 20 p.m. Was seated towards the end of a long, heavily decorated dining table complete with swan-folded napkins and long candles set in silver candle holders.

"So Bridget, tell us how you met Mark," Lala inquired.

"We met at my mother's annual turkey curry buffet, actually," I beamed.

"Is that a sort of membership affair?" Mr. Cleary asked.

"It's like Julie's tennis club, right?" another spoke up, popping a scallop in her mouth.

"Um…no." I answered, puzzled.

"It's more like an annual…post-holiday gathering where various family members and friends are reunited and forced to comply with the strict dress code: hand-knitted sweaters." Mark spoke up, cutting his steak.

"Ahh," they all chorused in agreement, but clearly having no idea what Mark was referring to.

"Do try some wine, my dear," Tibby spoke with oddly tight face. Must be the Botox. She could hardly smile without looking like plastic. "It's from my son's own winery."

"Actually, I've been trying to cut down on alcohol because, I heard that you…sleep better," I answered.

"That's a good one!" Vanessa raised her glass, giving me a huge wink. "Hear, hear!"

They all raised their glasses. Good grief.

Ended up raising own glass and then putting it to lips, pretending to take a sip. Mark looked over in slight alarm.

"Bridget, you don't have to, you know," he said in an undertone. "I'm sure they will understand."

"Oh, of course," I said happily. "It's merely a game of faux-pas and pas."

He looked confused, but smiled at me.

Saturday 17th, April

10 a.m. V. V. happy. Mark surprised me yesterday with two teddy bears. One has a pink bow and one has a blue one. So cute. Spent morning being lazy and sleeping in. Morning sickness slightly better, but won't be surprised if it returns mid-day. Placed the teddy bears on nightstand. They are absolutely adorable.

10: 30 a.m. Mark says he is flying to Wales next weekend to visit Olivia. Slightly upset, but thought of positive aspects. He is getting lots of experience of being a father and it is v. sweet to see him as a devoted and caring parent.

"Won't you come with me, Bridget?" Mark rubbed my hand, looking into my eyes. "Now that Olivia is part of the family, it'll be good for her to get used to us."

"Well, Mark," I began, not exactly warm to the idea, though not exactly sure why. "I am not…well, I promised Jude that I'll go shopping with her. It's v. important. She hasn't bought anything for her baby and I think it'll be a good, learning experience for me."

Mark looked disappointed, but didn't press on.

We spent the rest of the morning looking at baby catalogs for fun. Catalogs do not actually sell babies, but rather cribs, high-chairs and so forth.

Mark was v. keen on football themed boy's room and I had to remind him that it'll be good for us to know whether our little one is a boy or a girl first. Then we laughed and was actually in progress of a v. promising shag when the doorbell rang.

Put on respectable clothes and went downstairs to meet Mum and Elaine Darcy. Unfortunately, they didn't look in the most happy of spirits.

"Hello, mother. Mrs. Jones." Mark greeted. I searched his face for signs of comprehension, but concluded that he had no idea why they are here.

"Well, it's a beautiful morning, Mark and we decided to come over and have lunch. There are important matters to discuss," Elaine said briskly. "Where's Marvin? I'll need a cup of strong tea."

Mark and I sat down facing Mum and Elaine across table. Suddenly felt like I was being questioned in court. Any minute now, a judge will pop up and I will have to confess that I hated the idea that Mark has another child.

"I'll get straight to the point," Elaine began. "I was going to surprise you two by putting your names down for the Academy."

"Absolutely not!" Mum piped up. "Una and I insist on family care and nurturing."

"What---?" I asked, not entirely understanding.

"The Morris Academy for boys and girls, some what like a pre-school," Mark explained. "Mother, don't you think it's a bit early to---"

"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking to you, Mark Darcy!" Elaine said rather sternly.

Mark immediately shut up.

"You went to the Academy and look how well you turned out. I will not allow my grandchild to sit at home wasting away the finest years of mind development."

"Wasting away?" Mum practically shrieked. "A child needs nurturing and love, not some militaristic, whistle blowing, line formation drills before he can barely tie his shoes!"

Felt slightly sick. This is what they came for? I haven't even thought of the baby's name and here they were planning where the baby should stay and go to school? Obviously agreed with Mum's reasoning (for the first time), but also did not like the idea of her and Una taking care of baby. Surely the child is much too young to be exposed to fights over lumpy-gravy and awkward parties.

"I think," Mark stole a glance at me. I gave him a pleading look. "Bridget and I haven't really discussed this and we would much rather plan for ourselves."

"Of course you should make the plans yourselves," Mum said encouragingly. "But you know that Una and I will be more than happy to take care of your little one while you two are working!"

"Well, you'll certainly hire a nanny before you do anything else, won't you?" Elaine demanded, cutting her quiche.

"Yes…yes, of course. And you know that I respect the Morris Academy very much, mother. However, I do think Bridget and I might have…different ideas and we would have to discuss them first." Mark gave me another look and took my hand. I felt comforted, but still sick.

Both Mum and Elaine became silent. We ate lunch and Mark appeared very uncomfortable. Elaine's lips were very tight. Mum scoffed at the lobster salad and refused to take a bite. I knew what she was thinking, showy. But I couldn't say anything for fear of vomiting.

Then Mum suddenly began talking about a mini-holiday she and Una were planning for America.

Mark politely inquired her wishes for going and she answered, "I must see Chicago. The last time I went out of the country was two years ago and it's been much too long," Mum answered with a rather dignified air that I haven't heard in a while. "I think it's rather important to get out of England once in a while and see other cultures. You know that Americans wear sunglasses everywhere? It's a very popular thing to do."

Ugh, couldn't take another bite of food. And at that instant, I ran to the kitchen sink and vomited. Was it being sick physically or stress over Mum and Elaine's suggestions? Wouldn't know.

"That's it!" Mum said happily, glad for an excuse to stay. "I'll take care of you. Now off to bed!"

Buggar.