Saturday 6 September

8st 9, cigarettes 10, alcohol units 3, calories 4,255 (might as well, enjoy life while still lucky enough to have it), minutes since had sex 16,005,124,00 (must, therefore do something about this).

6 p.m. Me, Jude and Shaz spent all day watching Princess Diana's funeral. All agreed it was like funeral of someone you know, only on somewhat grander scale, so that afterwards you feel as though you have been put through a wringer, but also as though something has been let out of you. Just so pleased that they managed to get everything right. It was all good. Beautiful and really good as if the establishment has really got the message at last, and our country can do things properly again.

Whole thing seems like Shakespearean tragedy or ancient legend, especially with sparring between two great noble houses of Spencer and Windsor. Definitely feel ashamed for working on stupid daytime TV programme where we have often devoted entire afternoons to Diana's hair. Will change life. If establishment can change so can I.

Bit lonely now, though. Jude and Shaz went out into the streets as said they had cabin fever. We tried ringing the police station, as am not allowed out without a policeman, but eventually, after forty-five minutes, we got through to a woman on central switchboard who said everyone was busy, Told Jude and Shaz definitely did not mind if they went out without me as long as they brought back a pizza. Ah. Telephone.

'"Oh, hello, darling, it's Mummy here."

Mummy! Anyone would think I was about to do a poo-poo in her hand.

"Where are you, Mother?" I said. "Oh, I've come out, darling."

For a second I thought she was telling me she was a lesbian and was going to set up home with Uncle Geoffrey in a gay, sexless marriage of convenience.

"We're back home. Everything's sorted out and Daddy's going to be fine. I don't know! Drinking all that time in his shed when I thought it was the tomatoes. Mind you, Gordon Gomersall had exactly the same thing, you know, and Joy had no idea. It's a disease, they say now. What did you think of the funeral?"

"Very nice," I said. "Now what's going on?"

"Well, darling . . ." she began, then there was a kerfuffle and Dad came on the phone.

"It's all right, love. I've just got to stay off the booze," he said. "And they were trying to get Pam out of there from day one."

"Why?" I said, a lurid vision of my mother seducing a procession of eighteen-year-old drug addicts loomed up before my eyes.

He chuckled. "They said she was too normal. Let me give you back."

"Honestly, darling. It was all complete silly-daft nonsense charging these celebrity type of people loads of money to tell them things everybody knows already!"

"What kind of things?"

"Oooh, hang on. I'll just turn the chicken over."

I held the phone away from my ear, trying not to think about what kind of bizarre dish would involve an upside-down chicken.

"Oof. There we go."

"What things did they tell you?"

"Well, in the mornings we all had to sit in a circle and say all kinds of silly things."

"Like ... ?"

"Oh, durrr You know. My name's Pam and I'm a whatever!"

What? I wondered ... ever? Madly over-confident nightmare? Lump-free gravy obsessive? Girl-child torturess? "The things they were coming out with! 'Today I will

be confident in myself, I will not worry about other people's opinions of me.' On and on and on. I mean, honestly, darling. If someone isn't confident in themselves they're not going to get anywhere, are they?" she said, roaring with laughter. "Durrr! Not confident in yourself. I don't know! Why would anyone go around worrving about what anyone else is thinking about them?"

I looked worriedly from side to side. "So what did you say for your affirmations"

"Oh, I wasn't allowed to say anything. Well, at least I was, darling."

"What? What did you have to say?"

Heard my dad laughing in the background. He sounded on good form, anyway. "Tell her, Pam."

"Ufff. Well, I was supposed to say, 'I will not allow over-confidence to blind me to reality' and, 'Today I will recognize my faults as well as my assets.' I mean, it was completely ridiculous, darling. Anyway, must whizz, there's the buzzer. So I'll see you on Monday."

What?" I said.

"Don't say what, say pardon, darling. I've made an appointment for you to have your colours done in Debenhams. I told you! Four o'clock."

"But..." I mean, she didn't. When did she tell me? January?

"Got to go, darling. The Enderburys are at the door."

Sunday 7 September

8st 10, sq feet of floorspace not covered by bras, shoes, food, bottles or lipstick 0.

10 a.m. Hurrah! Another day, and still not dead. Hideous night, though. Felt really tired after I'd been talking to Mum, so checked all the doors were locked, climbed under confusion of Shazzer's pants, camisoles and leopardskin throws and went to sleep. Didn't hear them come in, then woke up at midnight to find them asleep. Is really starting to stink in here. Also, trouble is if wake up in night all can do is lie staring quietly at ceiling so as not to wake them up by knocking things over.

Ooh. Telephone. Best pick it up so as not to wake them.

"Well, they've realized I'm not a homicidal ex-lover." Hurrah! Was Mark Darcy.

"How are you" he said considerately, given that, thanks to me, it turned out, he'd been at the police station for seven hours. "I'd have called but they wouldn't tell me where you were till they'd cleared me."

Tried to be cheerful but ended up telling him in a whisper that it was a bit of a squash at Shazzer's.

"Well, the offer's still open to come and stay with me," he said off-handedly. "Plenty of bedrooms."

Wished he wouldn't keep rubbing it in so much that he didn't want to sleep with me. Seems to be turning into pashmina scenario and know from Shazzer and Simon how impossible that is to get out of once you start because at the merest hint of sex everyone starts panicking about 'spoiling the friendship'.

Just then, Jude yawned and turned over, dislodging a pile of shoeboxes with her foot, which crashed to the ground spilling beads, earrings, make-up and a cup of coffee into my handbag. I took a big breath.

"Thanks," I whispered into the phone. "I'd love to come."

11.45 p.m. Mark Darcy's house. Oh dear. Is not going very well. Am just lying alone in strange white room with nothing in it except white bed, white blind and worrying white chair which is twice as high as it should be. Is scary here: great big empty palace with not even any food in house. Cannot seem to find or do anything without colossal mental effort as every light switch, toilet flush, etc. disguised as something else. Also is freezing cold in manner of fridge.

Strange, twilight day, drifting in and out of sleep. Keep finding self going along as normal then hitting Sleepy Pocket, almost like when aeroplanes plunge down fifty feet as if from nowhere. Cannot decide if it is still jet-lag or just trying to escape from everything. Mark had to go into work today, even though Sunday, because of missing whole day on Friday. Shaz and Jude came round about 4 with the Pride and Prejudice video but could not face watching lake scene after Colin Firth debacle so we just talked and read magazines. Then Jude and Shaz started looking round the house, giggling. I fell asleep and when I woke up they'd gone.

Mark came home about 9 with a takeaway for us both. Had high hopes for romantic reconciliation but was concentrating so hard on not giving the impression that I wanted to sleep with him, or in any way think staying at his house is anything other than police-type legal arrangement, that we ended up being all stiff and formal with each other in manner of doctor and patient, Blue Peter house inhabitants or similar.