Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy

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—’