Bridget Jones's Diary

With Christmas around the corner, we're encouraging parents, families and anyone buying a gift for a child or young person to give the gift of a diary. You'll be giving them a platform to express themselves and the tools to become a better writer, which will help them now and long in to the future. And you never know - your child might just produce the next Diary of a Wimpy Kid!
Hugh Grant has revealed that he no longer intends to appear in the upcoming third ‘Bridget Jones’ film. Hugh starred as love
That just undermines the perfectly valid and wholly committed relationships of all those out there who aren't married for whatever reason - maybe we aren't 'waiting' exactly, we just have better things to do.
Literary snobs, the types that actually laugh at Shakespeare comedies, moan something chronic about the popularity of chick-lit, the fact that the genre regularly dominates book charts across the world. There's a reason why these people hate chick-lit, and it's nothing to do with declining standards.
Inside, en route to our room, we climb a grand staircase. It happens again. I know this staircase, but where from? OMG It suddenly dawns on me. It's the staircase from the "mini break weekend" scene in one of my favourite films, Bridget Jones's Diary!
If I'm going to keep a diary then I first better make sure I have a life to write about, but then if I'm living such an eventful, fulfilling life, how the hell am I going to find the time to write about it?
Bridget Jones is back - writer Helen Fielding will publish her third novel about the scatty singleton next year. The character
I don't mind being single. I like the freedom it gives me and I absolutely love sleeping alone. There is nowhere in the world more fun than my bed - even when I'm the only one in it.
Only now has Phillips' off-kilter disposition brought her a lead role. Could that be why she's acting so anxious? Sally Phillips
I hadn't been back to St Anne's for two decades and had avoided mailing lists. So I'd never realised some of the authors, journalists and broadcasters I most admired had slept in the same shoebox rooms and drunk in the same windowless college bar years before me.