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I AM ENGAGED!

Ahmet took me on a riverboat cruise of the Thames on Saturday, which included a lobster dinner and champagne. The lobster was VERY difficult to eat in a dignified way with a knife and fork, but I managed it. Only a few pieces of white fish flew across the table.

While we were dining, Ahmet asked the string quartet to play ‘Here Comes the Bride’. Then he pulled out the giant, gaudy engagement ring his mother made me try on and asked if I wanted to settle down with a nice man who couldn’t make ravioli but wanted to marry me very much indeed.

I couldn’t believe it and blurted out: ‘But we haven’t even slept together yet.’

Ahmet laughed and said we could work out all those details once we’d tied the knot. Then he said his love for me went beyond living arrangements and listed all the things he liked about me:

My lively and confident dialogue with his sexist, racist, homophobic mother.

My wit.

My maturity.

And most importantly, my open-minded outlook.

THEN he got down on one knee and …

HE PROPOSED!

I was gobsmacked. It was such a surprise. I just sat there, mouth open, hearing the boat engine churning and water sloshing.

I should have said yes there and then but … I didn’t. Maybe it was the utterly hideous engagement ring. Or the fact Ahmet and I haven’t been intimate yet. Or … I don’t know. Something to do with Chris coming over last night?

I told Ahmet that his proposal had made me very happy, but I needed time to think.

Ahmet understood (he’s SO understanding!). He said he didn’t like surprises either and I could take as long as I needed. So, I went home to think things over.

When I got through my front door, I stood and stared at my narrow staircase. I thought about how nice it would be to have a partner helping me up those stairs from time to time. Then I called Ahmet and said yes.

It felt a little unromantic saying yes over the phone. Like agreeing to a property purchase. But as we’ve discussed many times now, this is a practical transaction. A bungalow because you’ve outgrown the family home, rather than a dream house. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy.

Iamhappy. At least I think I am. I don’tfeelhappy, but that’s because it’s such a shock. I need time for the news to sink in.

Freddy, Frankfurt is just around the corner now. We should catch up before then, if only to work out shared taxi arrangements. WHERE have you disappeared to?

Monday 26th September

FREDDY! Did you read my last message? I feel like you’ve vanished off the face of the planet. Why aren’t you returning my calls?

Aside from anything else, we need to make arrangements for the Frankfurt Book Fair. It’s only a few weeks away now.

Am I meeting you at the airport? On the plane? Your assistant has sent me details of the First-Class lounge, which sounds utterly ridiculous. Who needs a free haircut, a three-course meal and a cocktail at that time in the morning? It’s a two-hour flight, not a wedding. And FYI Freddy –’ cattle class’ is an elitist and unpleasant term and I told your assistant so.

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CHAPTER48

Freddy stares at Kat’s latest diary entry on his curved computer screen (with glare reduction and ambient light to improve mood).

Some idiot knocks on Freddy’s office just as his eyes come into focus.

‘FUCK OFF,’ Freddy bellows, without lifting his head. Whoever is on the other side of the door does, indeed, fuck off. Then Freddy turns and vomits into his gold-plated wastepaper bin (with one-touch emptying and recycle compartments).

After several violent heaves, Freddy croaks into the intercom, ‘Tim, I just regurgitated my breakfast. Call Taurito’s and ask them to bring me another one.’

One second later, Tim appears in the doorway wearing rubber gloves. ‘Where’s the vomit?’