What a year! Looking over my 2020 resolutions, Wilfie by my side and Bozzie tucked up (probably) in his sleeping bag downstairs, I know if I’d been told last January that beavers would soon be spotted splashing in our lowland rock pools I’d have laughed in disbelief! And as for Dom and Stanley! I always tell people that even in difficult times miracles can happen – if they could read my diary they might even believe it!
Blissful in our winter hideaway – gorgeous Mustique! David Ross goes straight to the top of my peerage list! But will no one think of the planet? Shocked so many travellers fly here first class, but we tried to set an ethical example in economy. While Bozzie is out visiting the poor – Westminster or the Caribbean, it always takes him ages – I write my new year’s resolutions.
1 Get Dom done.
2 Get marriage done.
3 Save some animals (nb not grouse).
4 Also Stanley done.
5 Job for Nimco.
6 Fix Bozzie surveillance – but how?
So proud watching my Bozzie sign the historic withdrawal agreement! Me: “Are you sure about that nasty old tie?” B: “Oh don’t be such a girl, Carrie; Dom, Caino, Roxstar and Sputnik know what they’re doing.” We’ll see.
Tada! Finally, the divorce is happening! Feel incredibly blessed. Plan a very special announcement the minute poor Bozzie is allowed out of his endless Cobra meetings! Stanley: “Word to the wise, dear girl, I moved in what you might call a ‘fast’ set but we generally left sprogging news until a good 10 days after the decree nisi; tends to upset Number One Wife, or Two, obviously, in the case of my son the prime minister.” Oh good.
Bozzie: “I say, what’s this I’ve read about us being engaged? I don’t remember…” Me: “You want to be the one to tell everyone we’re not?” Dom: “She’s right mate, you’re screwed.”
Bozzie dumped Saj for Rishi! Try to save Saj but it’s useless. Dom: “Have you considered this could be God’s way of telling you to stick to quadrupeds?”
The Times made up such total BS about Dilyn, what made it worse was no one CARED, even after I ran into Mission Control, crying. Me: “If I’ve called once, I’ve called 20 times! Don’t you see how this makes us – me! – look! Have you forgotten I’m a leading environmentalist?” Dom: “To be honest, yes. Mind knocking next time?” Bozzie: “Now be reasonable, Marina– I mean, Petro–, that is, Helen, Jennifer– got it, Carrie, that plague thingy is heading this way and–” Me (grabbing an empty bottle): “Liar, you said it’s all a pathetic panic, why [taking aim] must you always lie?”
Result? There really is a plague but Bozzie heroically saved my secret lockdown-eve baby shower. Super!
Bozzie hasn’t just gone down with the completely harmless bug that only girly swots get, he’s given it to me, goodness knows how because he swore on Dilyn’s life that he had not even shaken hands with anyone.
But B is alive and we have a baby boy and B says he will wrestle the virus to the ground but until then Stanley can’t visit! My heart is full.
At least lockdown means I always know where B is. Almost always. Me: “Stanley, where does he go when he’s following the science?” Stanley: “Omertà, Carrie, you’ll find that’s Latin for–” Me: “Just tell him to get his arse back here in time to clap for carers.”
Amazing news! Now everyone knows Dom drove to Durham, needlessly putting its entire puffin population at risk! Feeling beyond blessed.
Bozzie (again): “I’m fit as a butcher’s dog.” Me: “You know nobody says that any more?” Bozzie: “Well, Caino does.” Me: “Do you ever even wonder why your ratings are so crap?”
Bozzie made his brother a lord. B (indignantly): “Jo, me, a peerage, what are you talking about?” Me (wearily): “Drop it. It’s on the news. You realise they’ll all want one now?” B: “Why not, didn’t you give Goldsmith an upgrade?” Me: “Just don’t use them all up before Wilfred’s got one.”
Survived our camping “holiday” in Scotland. Caino’s idea, apparently. At least we weren’t camping.
Seize an opportunity to monitor Italian sustainability developments from the terrace of the Hotel Splendido, Como. Where I persuade Nimco to join the team! Only £350 a day and part-time – but girl power has to start somewhere.
Hurt. It’s so much worse than I thought. “Princess Nut Nut”? B picks up on my 32nd attempt. “Sorry, Porton Down, no signal – what? Utter piffle. You’ve seen it? Right I am reliably informed that if this ‘Princess’ thing was said, which it wasn’t, it is indicative only of the team’s deep esteem, Carrie, with the ‘nut’ aspect playfully referencing your amazing work saving slave monkeys– Carrie? Right, are you sure Allegra would work, being of the slightly older female persua– oh, you’ve already asked her.”
Stanley rings: “It’s the most fearful bilge, that Bower book, dear girl, the man’s simply jealous, understandably, with one of my sons being the prime minister and another being Lord Johnson of Marylebone, and many more Johnson baronies, I happen to know, in the proverbial pipeline.” Me: “So you’ll be suing him for libel, Stanley?” Silence. Feeling incredibly incredibly blessed.
Hooray! Caino’s out, Dom’s history, finally the party’s in the hands of a real PR professional, me! What we need, I tell Bozzie – and Allegra – is more pictures of him, many more, running, walking, waving, looking at me, so the public can see my fiance through the eyes of an amazing photographer who has strict instructions never to let Bozzie out of his sight. “What, never?” B asks. “Never,” I say, “unless you’re with Allegra, right Allegra?”
My work for animals has won the Peta award!
Leaving just one resolution unfinished. Who wants a wedding in a pandemic? Nimco’s right, though – I’m almost 33, lockdown can’t last forever. “Allegra,” I shout. “Bring me Boris.”