I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I'm afraid. What have I done? Oh God, what have I done? Have I lost my love, lost her just when I found her, just when I knew her? My visions of the future, the starry-eyed entente, the hand-clasping, life-enhancing, sweet embrace, the shared journey through a sea of emotion, have buckled and fractured, torn into bitter shreds those plans, such plans for earthly bliss, have left me breathless, lifeless, soulless and bereft. And now I am alone. Alone, afraid and adrift. What a fool am I. Once and forever, a fool.

And what have I done, you ask. I don't know, and therein lies the seed of my downfall. Know thy love, and if you know not, say naught. Stay, observe, study and learn; discern her needs, divine her likes and dance a merry dance; but don't assume, and don't presume and don't engage mischance.

Oh, I can't keep up this dramatic language any longer; apart from anything it requires too much concentration and interferes with my sorry self-indulgence, but you get the picture. I'm knee deep in tears, a pale and sorry mess. Oh God, I'm off again. Right, bare facts...

Simone is not speaking to me. I've upset her, though I'm not entirely sure how or why.

It all seemed to be going wonderfully well. We were having a cracking meal at the Raj, and everyone was in tremendous form. Poor Jim Beam came in for some rough treatment, as usual, but he took it in his usual, serene manner. God help that boy if he ever takes up smoking dope: he'd be too laid back to remember to breathe. Simone seemed bright and cheerful, and as ever I just felt elated being in her presence. Right at the start she gave a brief flash when she whipped her tee shirt off in the middle of the restaurant. It's these little, uninhibited, spontaneous gestures I so love her for. It was all I could do to keep my tongue from drooling out of my mouth and my eyes fixed in their sockets. If I wasn't so upset I'd describe the vision of perfection to you, but at the moment I simply don't have the heart. She told some fantastic stories, especially about Jim Beam, and I had absolutely no conception that anything was amiss.

But then it all went wrong.

I was talking about Craig, about how we nearly got it on one night, before I chickened out. Ironically, this is one story I've told them which is largely true; I'm having difficulty keeping track of the lovers I've invented over the last few weeks, but little Craig was real, and so was his little dick. I may have talked up my role in the fiasco into which our date descended, but it was more or less true.

As I was telling it, though, Simone got up and said "I'm bored with this conversation, I'm off." Just like that. No discussion, no goodbyes, she just left. Clearly, I've upset her, but I have no idea what I've done, and I am absolutely miserable. I don't know what to do.

I asked the others what had happened and Don said "she's a woman of hidden depths. That's why we love her. But you've hit a raw nerve." What raw nerve, I asked. I tried to get him to tell me what he meant, but the sanctimonious little prick refused to say any more. He did say the most extraordinary thing though:

"There are things you don't know. Don't ever hurt her."

Why in God's name would I do that? I worship her, I adore her, I'd do anything for her. But what don't I know? I'm certain he knows, and I'm equally certain he has no intention of telling me. What his game is, I don't know: I'm not sure whether he sees me as a rival for Simone's affections, or whether he is just revelling in the role of her protector. Whatever, if I have hit a raw nerve, and he knows what it is, he has to tell me.

I tried to call him tonight, but his flatmate answered and said he wasn't in. I don't believe that for a second, but what can I do?

I need to speak to Simone. I need to clear things with her, apologise and find out what I did to upset her. Maddeningly, she's gone to Derby for a week: what unbelievable timing. I can't last for a week like this, though; it will drive me crazy, not knowing whether she is still angry with me, whether she wants nothing more to do with me, whether I've lost her entirely. I need to know. I need to know what my love is thinking.

Oh God, what have I done?

On to next story: The Raj: Simone's diary