5 st 3 (pre-party, Eru knows about tomorrow), Alcohol units 7 (but allowed), pipes smokes 3, no of birthdays celebrated with parties of great magnificence 1 (v.g.), no of Uncles disappeared 1 (v.bad) number of magic rings gained also 1 (unsure of significance but will look nice on chain), calories, sadly more than 1.

2pm. Hmmm. Am excited. Gandalf the Wizard has turned up with large cart of fireworks. Has asked self to guard said cart against light-fingered hobbits. Wonder will mind if I just….

2.02pm Have just been removed from cart watching duty. Said pilfering goblin barkers not part of deal. Spoil sport.

5.00pm. Why did Uncle Bilbo have to invite the Sackville-Bagginses? Know Uncle is keen to project air of good natured forgiveness to all hobbit-kind and thinks has enough reason to forgive them as tried to steal home fifty years ago. Thinks crime so big particularly important that it is ostentatiously forgotten. Twisted logic only thought up by old people.

What Uncle Bilbo is not considering is the horrible minutes spent enduring fashion advice from a hobbit who looks like a strip of sun-dried bacon wrapped in a serviette (or should that be napkin? Which is the tackiest?). Lobelia arrived early (Otho will arrive fashionably late, but one of them has to be early to make sure Bilbo isn’t 'up to something') and wasted no time in ruining my birthday.

"Bridget, dwarling," she will insist on kissing my cheek, which feels like it is being scraped with a desiccated sponge. "Happy Birthday!"

Smiled weakly. Lobelia will only genuinely wish self happy birthday if knows am to be mown down by legendary oliphaunt sometime following morning. Knows I will inherit Bag End and Bilbo's best umbrellas. Ha ha.

"So, dwarling, what are you wearing tonight? I'm sure you've bought something truly magnificent…" She always does this. As many hints to Bilbo's endless wealth as she can manage. This not biggest irritation though. Was wearing planned party clothes.

"um. This…" I ventured.

"Oh, I'm soooo sorry, Bridge," gushed Lobelia, looking positively delighted. "I didn’t mean anything by it. You look positively radiant," she added, as if self was pregnant. Silly old cow. Put me in bad mood for next hour. At least Lotho hasn’t turned up yet. He gives me the creeps.

7.00pm Party starting. Ooooh. Fireworks.

7.09pm. Lotho Sackville-Baggins has turned up and keeps staring at me.

7.11pm. Oh, sod, he's coming over.

"Hi, Baggins, Happy Birthday."

Am practising best aloof stare. Lotho asks me out at every possible opportunity. Am, however, on to him. At one point was on verge of accepting due to being worn down and then caught him in the hedgerow with Angelica Baggins. Besides, he only wants me for none existent money. If knew pantry contained only large number of scones and three jars of elderly strawberry jam instead of piles of jewels would not be so keen. Ugh. He has put hand on self's bum.

"Lotho, thank you very much. But please move your hand before this party cracker goes somewhere you won’t envoy." Was quite pleased with that one. But all evening needs is for Otho to come over and be sick on me and SB's will have spoiled evening completely.

Hope was not premonition.

8.00pm Uncle Bilbo's speech. Am looking forward to this. Have helped him write it, though his idea to use quaint made up number 'eleventy-one'. Told him it was passé but he insisted.

8.02pm. Excellent. 'One Gross' remark has upset Otho and Lobelia. Tee hee. Can't wait for the 'joke'.

8.04pm. Am getting nervous about joke. Perhaps should interrupt and stop him.

8.05pm. Am having visions. Everyone will blame me for disappearing Bilbo to get at inheritance (although as stated inheritance consisting of mouldy conserve), and will have to answer stupid questions all night. Happy Birthday. Hmm. Brandy. Yum.

8.10pm. No, joke will be fine.

8.25pm. Ahhhh! Joke has gone off but two tons of fireworks went off at same time scaring all children and driving everyone into a frenzy of running around like headless (and overfed) chickens. Everyone blaming me (as cleverly predicted). Am going to run and hide.

8.55pm. Oh. Uncle Bilbo has already gone. Wanted to ask him why he appeared to blow up in manner of dragon with hiccups. But only Gandalf still here.

"Don't be too troubled," said Gandalf. Think G should try second career as therapist. "I really think he preferred slipping off quietly in the end. He left a package for you - its there on the mantelpiece."

Present! Hurrah! Thought was not going to get anything (apart from entire Bag End and strawberry jam fortune of course). Nearly drop package in shock. Has left me Golden Ring. Hmm. As if need magic ring to make self invisible to non-creepy men. But maybe could use to do unspeakable things to Lotho Sackville-Baggins… what's Gandalf saying?

Humph. Keep it safe, and keep it secret. Typical. Maybe second career as really annoying teacher, rather than therapist.

4st 8 (advantage of having blood sucked by midges), Alcohol units 0 (v.g.), pipes smoked 7 (but will spend next two weeks becoming shadowy wraith unable to hold pipe, so ok), no of times stabbed in shoulder by melting morgul knife 1 (non-v.g and has wrecked best travelling blouse), number nazgul in attack 5 (v.g, according to Strider).

10pm. Ow. Stupid girl. Should have known that self's willpower if not enough to resist evil lure of cream bun would not match equal force of witch king. And the day had started so well. Well, when I say well, I mean without horrendous shadowy ghouls sticking things in me.

For a start we got out of the marshes. Was good, esp. since choice of suede moccasins had proved ill-advised for short-cuts.

"Bridge - Did I not suggest that before we left Bree you might avail yourself of some appropriate footwear?"

Tried not to get irritated by otherwise gorgeous Strider's unnecessarily archaic sentence structures. Pippin says is because S. knows he looks like back of a dwarf and is compensating by trying to look all moody and intelligent. Disagree with dwarf comment of course but otherwise think theory is sound.

"I thought these were appropriate," I muttered sulkily.

"Which part of 'leave the open and take cover' did you fail to grasp?" he replied with an arrogant smirk which while infuriating was also rather appealing, in a men-are-pigs sort of way.

Managed not to waver. "I'm a hobbit. I'm not supposed to need sturdy footwear - these are fashion accessories. Besides - I had in mind some leaf-strewn forest paths. When you promised to save me from certain death it never occurred that you might try to drown me in mud. Maybe you are a servant of the enemy after all!"

"You should not speak lightly of such things!" he snapped, and strode off (well, he would, wouldn't he). Was crushed. No matter how hard one tries, cannot convince Strider that self is serious, save the world from certain doom type girl.

Then things got worse.

2pm. Worst thing about being aforementioned genuine, brave save the world type etc is that all friends suddenly convinced that a) you are cracking under pressure b) that all you think about is saving world and no longer want to talk about the important things in life such as clothes and men and c) you are constantly in danger of being eaten by strange warty things. C) is most depressing as self is constantly monitored by worried associates. Going to toilet is most complicated, and entails minutes of calm persuasion. Certainly am not letting Strider watch over me while I take a pee. Must seek to maintain at least some illusions of female perfection though self is losing that particular quest.

Managed to worm myself away and head for convenient dell when air-piercing shriek filled air. At least managed to pull knickers up before S raced over to check was all right. Of course hurry of making self decent pushed me off balance and fell flat as S's feet. Great. Now probably thinks am drunk.

9.30pm.

Have to hand it to these sleep in mud and protect the innocent ranger types, they can certainly take control in crisis. Strider has been running around barking orders like well-organised dog for last half hour. Now we have big fire - "these riders fear fire and those who wield it" he says. Why? Why would insubstantial wraiths think getting burned was any more of a problem that being kicked in the ghoulies? (sorry, bad pun) But suits me. Will possibly give chance for moccasins to dry out .

Bugger. Have set fire to feet. Water!

Hmm. At least Black Riders will be scared of my feet. Like most men. Perhaps I could wax?

9.50

Oshitoshitoshitoshit. Riders. Five of them. Are staying back from fire, but can feel them calling to ring. Bloody thing is like cat. Pretends to be all useful and faithful but buggers off at first sign of better deal. Well, kitty, you're staying on chain. Whatd'ya think of that?

Damn. Self has put ring on. What am I thinking?

Hmm. Now am walking towards riders suddenly illuminated by sharpened vision. Yuck. This must stop.

Hurrah! Have stopped. Thinking about cream buns instead. Good call.

"What are you doing?" Witch-King asks in surprise.

"Thinking about food," I say, a little smugly.

"We are calling to your soul through the lure of the most powerful talisman ever created on Arda, and you are thinking about food?" He seemed quite shocked.

"You don’t know much about women," I suggested. "If you think the most powerful talisman in the world could deflect thoughts of a cream bun once lodged in ones head."

The Pale King stood open mouthed. "You don’t even have a cream bun," he paused. "We have lots of buns in Mordor. Stacks of em. If he doesn’t peel your body away and leave you naked to the lidless eye, I'm sure the boss could give you buns. Just give me the damn ring."

I beamed. It was supposed to be beatific, but admit it may have fallen short under trying circumstances. "I've heard Rivendell is pretty good for cakes, thank you."

The witch king held my gaze with his steely eyes for a moment. Then he shrugged and said, "Oh well, no-one wearing shoes like that is going to be much of a problem anyway."

OK. Will admit now. Self has brains and common-sense of brine shrimp. "Right," I snapped. "That does it. I've had it up to here with people making comments about my shoes!" Drew self's sword and attacked.

Ow. Stupid girl.

Have one consolation as lie here with sliver of evil metal working towards self's heart. Am now getting full bed bath from Strider with some smelly leaves. Mmmm. As long as he stays on that bit and doesn’t…

Ow!