Wednesday 19 June
... wasted 2 hours of preparations for Saturday when I am to be introduced to Mr. Darcy on the film set of Fever Pitch by Pretentious Jerome. Unsure how Pretentious Jerome is going to effect introduction since he is only employed to stop cars when they are filming but he had better bloody do, after I have spent the entire week playing along with Jerome's pathetic pretence to Tom that he is "A consultant to the director".

Also whenever try to boast about Mr Darcy everyone just goes "Oh, but he's got a girlfriend, very young and beautiful, Italian academic" in pitying tones. Result is Mr Darcy's girlfriend has become unwelcome but irremovable role model. Catch sight of bottom in mirror and imagine Mr. Darcy's girlfriend's shiny pert young Italian bottom. Tried to chargrill peppers in manner of River Cafe cookbook which become burnt. Realized Mr. Darcy's girlfriend would not produce black crumbling but moist succulent peppers drizzled with exotic oils and stylish weeds.

Keep imagining Mr. Darcy and Mr. Darcy's girlfriend in minimalist Italian flat full of designer washbasins hewn from slabs of solid limestone eating HaagenDazs ice-cream off each other. Humph! 

Friday 21 June
... must practise what to say to Mr. Darcy or rather Colin Firth as he is known. Tom says on no account mention Mr. Darcy but just chat like normal person not tedious fan.

Saturday 22 June (midnight)
Oh God. Turned up v. nervous at film set. Was standing like spare part in middle of all film people silently repeating mantra "Mr. Darcy is Colin, Mr. Darcy is Colin" when voice beside me murmured, "You must be Bridget" There right in flesh beside self was Mr. Darcy. Vision went blotchy and was catapulted lurchingly to sitting in front of telly in cold winter watching Mr. Darcy emerge from lake. Grasped wall for support and saw Mr. Darcy looking at me with worried expression. "Mr. Darcy" I said weakly then hit myself hard on the forehead.

"O.K. Colin, up at the ground" said a voice bossily. "Coming Bridget?" It was Jerome who seemed to have engineered himself into loftier position of moving everyone around. Found self walking between Jerome and Mr. Darcy but unable to speak a single word. Next thing reached gates and Jerome went off so carried on walking with Mr. Darcy.

Suddenly remembered line I had practised "It was a very intelligent performance" I gobbled.

"Oh thanks. Which?" he said nicely.

"Oh nothing, nothing the Ruth Rendell mysteries, " I said guiltily. "Fever Pitch just now, very intelligent". 

Suddenly realized we had stopped outside a door. Looked at door. Was toilet. Realized was on verge of following Mr. Darcy into toilet in manner of mad stalker. He sweetly excused himself and that was it. 

Was in mad self loathing love blur all through match and on way to opera..... Wonder if could e-mail Mr. Darcy in guise of lithe Italian cool enough to distinguish between stroll to next location and visit to toilet?