SARAH VINE: If we’ve got Bridget Jones again, let’s have the true deal

As a mid-life Gen X-er, I need to confess I’ve all the time had an enormous comfortable spot for Bridget Jones. Helen Fielding’s bumbling heroine brilliantly encapsulated the numerous idiosyncrasies of being a lady in a post-feminist, post-sexual-revolution panorama, navigating commitment-phobic males, narcissistic baby-boomer mother and father and exploitative bosses. 

Not to say that complicated smorgasbord of societal expectations that required one to be each unbiased, self-starting profession woman whereas on the similar time sustaining an outward veneer of fascinating femininity. All in order that the blokes – a lot of whom had not fairly but come to phrases with the idea of us being allowed out of the typing pool within the first place – wouldn’t really feel their delicate nostrils put misplaced.

Whereas in the present day’s millennials push again with confidence and greater than slightly petulance (and don’t get me began on the entitlement of Gen Z which, whereas intensely infuriating, I can’t assist however secretly admire), we had been educated to roll with the punches.

Bridget’s trademark clumsiness is greater than a chance for theatrical slapstick, it’s a metaphor for the pitfalls and uncertainty of that life. Like Bridget, many people bounced from pillar to put up, making an attempt to be all issues to all folks, typically sacrificing our personal well being and sanity within the course of. Bridget Jones was an astute piece of social commentary, disguised – as all the perfect issues are – with humour. Indeed humour, typically of a gallows sort, is how my technology survived – and continues to outlive. Sometimes it’s all we’ve acquired.

Filming has began on a fourth instalment of the Bridget Jones movie collection, as soon as once more starring Renee Zellweger within the main position

That stated, once I learn that filming was beginning on a fourth instalment of the Bridget Jones film, as soon as once more starring Renee Zellweger, I can’t say I used to be a lot enthused. Quite aside from the truth that it’s going to little doubt provide a chance for the odious Hugh Grant to reprise his position because the dastardly Daniel Cleaver – his character, having been presumed lifeless, was discovered to be alive on the finish of the final instalment, extra’s the pity – the probability of it reflecting the truth of a middle-aged Bridget is pretty slim.

Hollywood solely appears to be fascinated by girls my age if we’re performing out some kind of advanced and fairly frankly deeply impractical Mrs Robinson fantasy. You know, prowling round with our well-preserved belongings encased in costly Rigby and Peller scaffolding, purring by our veneers at defenceless divorcees over the dinner desk, terrorising male colleagues within the board room earlier than crushing them within the bed room with our iron-clad pelvic flooring muscle tissue, honed by innumerable periods of reformer pilates or, higher nonetheless, indulging in late-flowering lesbianism with equally unfeasibly match fiftysomething glamazons.

All very thrilling, I’m positive, however about as reasonable as Rishi Sunak romping dwelling with an 80-seat majority subsequent election.

So, by all means, sure, let’s have spherical 4 of Bridget. But let’s make it actual. Bridget was 32 within the first e book, which got here out in 1996 – that will make her round 60 now, though within the final movie she was 43 when she had a child, and that got here out in 2016, which might make her 51 – so let’s break up the distinction and name her 55. If she’s something just like the 55-year-olds I do know, there’s valuable little pants motion (massive or in any other case), and Mr Darcy is a distant reminiscence amid the chaos of youngsters, canine and hormonal-induced fug…

3:45am. Woken by alarming sound of beloved apparently being attacked by wild boar. On nearer inspection, no wild boar current, merely beloved digesting claret-based supper. Break out in sizzling sweat, largely brought on by dawning realisation of evening earlier than throughout which by chance drank an excessive amount of Whispering Angel and advised obnoxious husband of finest buddy that she hates him and desires a divorce. Check WhatsApp. Confimed. Am now ex-friend.

Repair to spare room in try and sleep, however assailed by second heatwave highly effective sufficient to soften mattress. Open window and lie in mattress doomscrolling whereas worrying about, in no specific order, state of affairs in Middle East, Trump, mom’s hip, little one’s GCSEs, VAT on college charges, canine’s flea therapy, lack of curiosity in intercourse with beloved, fats on abdomen (probably associated?), frown strains, thinning hair (ought to I cease dyeing it?), unusual recurring ache in aspect, tinnitus (deafening), the impact of social media on youngsters’s psychological well being. Make word to observe youngsters’s display screen time extra carefully and schedule intercourse with husband. Oh, and apologise to ex-friend’s husband.

6:45am Oestrogel: 1 pump, Utrogestan x1. Assorted different meds: 27. Cups of sturdy tea: 943. Parts of physique not screaming in ache: zero. Attempt to evoke teenager for varsity. Unsuccessful. Says is figuring out as labradoodle and desires to go to park and sleep on couch all day as a substitute. Too drained to argue. Contemplate doing similar.

8:45am: Office. Two flat whites (unhealthy), one cinnamon roll (v unhealthy), one ginger shot (good). Attend variety coaching session hosted by closely tattooed little one who is seemingly now in command of all the things. Contemplate getting tattoo to appear extra groovy and impress child-boss. Decide towards as danger of septicaemia excessive following ill-advised cartilage piercing final 12 months (additionally try to appear extra groovy). Realise that time period ‘groovy’ marks me out as historic crone.

This mocked-up picture reveals how Bridget may look if having sizzling flushes. BSIP/UIG /Laurie Sparham/Universal/Studio Canal/Miramax/Kobal/Shutterstock

Ms Zellweger with Colin Firth in Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason Year, the second movie within the collection

1pm. Lunch. Eat over-priced sandwich and take a look at facelift movies on TikTok (for some purpose that is what the algorithm sends me). Contemplate vacation to Turkey. Message buddy. No reply.

5pm. Pilates. Surrounded by 12-year-olds in cut-off Lycra. Smug teacher eyes me with pity, asks if it’s my first time. Resist urge to say I’ve been coming right here since earlier than she was born. Or punch her. Pull muscle making an attempt to show I can nonetheless sustain with 12-year-olds. Grit enamel as am handled to patronising lecture by smug teacher.

7pm Mother calls to say she’s slipped and damage her again. The physician has prescribed mattress relaxation and Valium. Am sorely tempted…

9:30pm Whispering: ½ bottle (leftover, disgrace to waste); sneaky roll-up 1 (vv unhealthy); flip down central heating (once more). Beloved, shivering, proclaims early evening (not sensing an invite). Labradoodle now figuring out as soon as once more as teenager, demanding Deliveroo. Acquiesce weakly. Run magnesium salts bathtub. Watch Netflix. Spare room…