Valentine's Day purely commercial, cynical enterprise, anyway. Matter of supreme indifference to me.

I had my daughter by C-section, so knew when and where she was going to be born. I got freakishly organized and prepared a group e-mail birth announcement. Unfortunately, I accidentally pressed Send All. I then had to send another e-mail saying, "I'm really sorry but I haven't actually had the baby yet." Then, when I actually did have the baby, I felt too embarrassed to send another e-mail saying, "I've definitely had the baby now."

For me, writing Bridget's [Jones] stories is an instinctive, organic thing, which tends to happen more by accident than design.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that as soon as one part of your life starts looking up, another falls to pieces.

As women glide from their twenties to thirties, Shazzer argues, the balance of power subtly shifts. Even the most outrageous minxes lose their nerve, wrestling with the first twinges of existential angst: fears of dying alone and being found three weeks later half-eaten by an Alsatian.

In terms of parenthood, I think the pressure has amped up massively too. Some parents are setting the bar ludicrously high in terms of doing things "right," and seeing children more as products to be perfected than simply children.

It occurred to me that if Africa needed us, sometimes we needed Africa a great deal more.