Then suddenly William's arms were released from round my neck. I felt him being lifted away and then the smacking stopped. For a moment I just hung my head, trying to get my breath back and recover my composure. Then I turned to see Mark Darcy walking away with a writhing six-year-old boy under each arm.

For a while the party was entirely taken over by the recapturing of the pig, and Jeremy giving the petting zookeeper a bollocking. The next I saw of Mark, he was wearing his jacket and saying goodbye to Magda at which Rebecca rushed over and started saying goodbye as well. I looked away quickly and tried not to think about it. Then suddenly Mark was coming over to me.

"I'm, er, off now, Bridget," he said. Could swear I saw him glance down at my tits. "Don't leave with any pieces of meat in your handbag, will you?"

"No," I said. For a moment we just looked at each other. "Oh, thank you, thank you for ... " I nodded to where the incident had happened.

"Not at all," he said softly. "Any time you want me to get a boy off your back." And as if on cue, bloody Giles Benwick reappeared carrying two drinks.

"Oh, are you off, old boy?" he said. "I was just about to pump Bridget for some more of her seasoned advice." Mark looked quickly from one of us to the other.

"I'm sure you'll be in very good hands," he said abruptly. "See you in the office on Monday."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. How come nobody ever flirts with me except when Mark is around?

"Back in the old torture chambers, eh?" Giles was saying, clapping him on the back. "On it goes. On it goes. Off you go then."

Head was in a whirl while Giles went on and on about sending me a copy of 'Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway'. He was very keen to know if Sharon and I were going to Gloucestershire on the twelfth. But the sun seemed to have gone in, there was a lot of crying and 'Mummy will smack'ing going on and everyone seemed to be leaving.

"Bridget." It was Jude. "Do you want to come to 192 for a-" "No we don't," snapped Sharon. "We're going for a post-mortem." Which was a lie as Sharon was meeting Simon. Jude looked stricken. Oh God. Bloody Rebecca has ruined bloody everything. Though must remember not to blame others but take responsibility for everything that happens to self.

9st I (is working!), progress on hole in wall by Gary 0.

I think I had better accept it now. Mark and Rebecca are an item. Is nothing I can do about it. Have been reading 'The Road Less Travelled' some more and realize you can't have everything you want in life. Some of what you want but not everything you want. Is not what happens to you in life that counts but how you play the cards you are dealt. Am not going to think about the past and procession of disasters with men. Am going to think about the future. Oooh goody, telephone! Hurrah! You see!

Was Tom just ringing up for a moan. Which seemed nice. Until he said, "Oh, by the way, I saw Daniel Cleaver earlier on tonight."

"Oh really, where?" I trilled, in a gay yet strangled voice. Realize am new me and dating embarrassments of past - e.g., just to pluck an example out of the air, finding a naked woman on Daniel's roof last summer when was supposed to be going out with him - would never happen to new me. Even so, however, did not want spectre of Daniel humiliation rearing up alarmingly in manner of Loch Ness monster, or erection.

"In the Groucho Club," said Tom.

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?" I asked dangerously. Whole point about exes is that friends should punish and ignore them, not try to get on with both sides in manner of Tony and Cherie with Charles and Diana.

"Oof. I can't remember now, exactly. I said, um: 'Why were you so horrible to Bridget when she is so nice?"'

There was something about the way he said this in manner of a parrot that suggested he may not have been quoting himself strictly word for word.

"Good," I said, "very good." I paused, determined to leave it at that and change the subject. I mean what do I care what Daniel said?

"So what did he say?" I hissed.

"He said," said Tom, then started laughing. "He said..."

"What?"

"He said..." He was practically crying with laughter now.

"What? What? WHAAAAAAAAT?"

"'How can you go out with someone who doesn't know where Germany is?"'

I let out a high-pitched hyena laugh, almost as one does when one hears one's grandmother has died and believes it to be a joke. Then the reality hit me. I clutched the side of the kitchen table, mind reeling.

"Bridge?" said Tom. "Are you all right? I was only laughing because it's so ... ridiculous. I mean of course you know where Germany is ... Bridge? Don't you?"

"Yes," I whispered weakly.

There was a long, awkward pause while I tried to come to terms with what had happened i.e. Daniel had chucked me because he thought I was stupid.

"So, then," said Tom, brightly. "Where is it ... Germany?"

"Europe."

"Yeah, but, like, where in Europe?"

Honestly. In the modern age it is not necessary to know where countries actually are since all that is required is to purchase a plane ticket to one. They do not exactly ask you at the travel agent's which countries you will be flying over before they will give you the ticket, do they?

"Just give us a ballpark position."

"Er," I stalled, head down, eyes flicking round the room to see if there might be an atlas at large.

"Which countries do you think Germany might be near?" he pressed on.

I thought about it carefully. "France."

"France. I see. So Germany is 'near France', is it?"

Something about the way Tom said this made me feel I'd made some cataclysmic gaff. Then it occurred to me that Germany is of course connected to Eastern Germany and therefore it is far more likely to be close to Hungary, Russia or Prague.

"Prague," I said. At which Tom burst out laughing.

"Anyway, there's no such thing as general knowledge any more," I said indignantly. "It has been proved by articles that the media has created such a great sea of knowledge that everyone cannot possibly have the same selection of it."

"Never mind, Bridge," said Tom. "Don't worry about it. Do you want to see a movie tomorrow?"

I I p.m. Yes, am just going to go to movies now and read books. What Daniel may or may not have said is a matter of supreme indifference to me.

11.15 p.m. How dare Daniel go round bad-mouthing me! How did he know I don't know where Germany is? We never even went near it. Furthest we got to was Rutland Water. Huh.

11.20 p.m. Anyway, I am really nice. So there.

11.30 p.m. Am horrible. Am stupid. Am going to start studying The Economist and also go to evening classes and read Money by Martin Amis.

11.35 p.m. Harhar. Have found atlas now.

11.40 p.m. Hah! Right. I am going to ring up that bastard.

11.45 p.m. Just dialled Daniel's number.

"Bridget?" he said, before I had time to say anything.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Some surreal sixth sense," he drawled amusedly. "Hang on." I heard him lighting a fag. "So go on then." He inhaled deeply.

"What?" I muttered.

"Tell me where Germany is."

"It is next to France," I said. "And also Holland, Belgium, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Switzerland, Austria and Denmark. And it has a sea coast."

"Which sea?"

"North Sea."

"And?"

I stared at the atlas furiously. it didn't say the other sea.

"OK," he said. "One sea out of two is fine. So do you want to come round?"

"No!" I said. Honestly. Daniel is absolutely the limit. Am not going to get involved with all that again.