After some serious blog posts about being sacked from my job for having MS, it is good to bring some breathtakingly exciting news – Bridget Jones returns! There will be a third novel published next Autumn and I have donned my big pants in celebration.
Bridget played a pretty big role in my life. I read the novel while I was pregnant (always arriving late to a trend) and the first film came out when The Teenager was a baby. I remember watching it with a sigh of relief that I was past that stage, yet bittersweetly nostalgic for my ‘carefree’ single days. Mind you, I have never had two men fighting over me (oi, over here, Darcy!) and it never snowed quite so beautifully when I lived in London. But what Bridget showed legions of women, including me, was that it was ok to be less than perfect, or overweight or not entirely sure of which direction our lives were headed in. She spoke for all of us.
I identified with Bridget in so many ways – the badly-put-together work wardrobe, the awkwardness, the rampant self-doubt and the complete inability to cook for a dinner party. I winced with recognition at her eagerness to be wanted by Daniel Cleaver, the cad. And I too feared I would end my days alone, half-eaten by Alsatians.
I am worried though, that if they age Bridget in real time, she will be in her late 40’s. Will she be as funny? Will she be blogging instead of writing a diary and counting her Twitter followers instead of how many cigarettes she smokes? Crucially, will she still speak for all of us? I await with baited breath.
If I were Bridget, my daily life would be something like: Alcohol units: too many, Weight: fluctuating, Meds: 3 plus 5 supplements, Hours spent seeking blogging inspiration: 2.5.
Note to self: Lose weight, drink less and eat more vegetables. Then my very own Mr Darcy may just come along…
