I went to the gym today, for the first time in a year. A. bought me a membership for Christmas, after tactfully asking whether I’d like it. I did.

I packed my bag, took S. to school, leaving Z. with A. and headed off.

The first ten minutes were hard and I toyed with the idea of giving it another ten and then leaving but I want to be slim and fit and this is part of the plan, so I kept at it.

After twenty-five minutes, I started to feel fantastic and I recognised the ‘rush’, that surge of energy that makes me want to laugh.

After an hour I stopped, worn out but happy. I’ve been tired all afternoon from the unaccustomed, sustained activity but it’s that contented, almost dreamy weariness and I know I’ll sleep well tonight.

As a bonus, both of the boys went to bed at seven fifteen, without complaint. One might almost say gratefully, after having had a busy afternoon of cake-making, running around, having friends over and playing, playing, playing.

So now I have the evening to myself. (A. works evenings on Mondays.)

I think I’ll have a cup of tea and read a book, followed by a nice dinner and a bit of mindless TV viewing, then some sleep.

‘Night