I have heard nothing from Jake all week. I’ve been rattling round the house on my own every night. And I’m considering erecting a barbed-wire fence around my desk. I did, however, make not one, but two momentous decisions on the train on the way home on Monday night. It is the result of the first one which finds me wearing a co-ordinated Lycra ensemble. A treadmill may not seem at first glance like a life-changing piece of equipment but it’s a start.

I’m not happy. I have no boyfriend. No baby. And no job satisfaction. I thought all of these things would make me happy, but as some of them aren’t immediately apparent on the horizon, I’m going to have to do something to make myself happy in other ways. Enter renewed gym membership and renewed determination to use it.

The sad thing about Jake is that I’d expected him to ring. I thought he might have given a little call just to check that I hadn’t committed suicide because of him. Isn’t it strange that one day you can walk away from someone who has been a large part of your life for a long time and not give them a second thought—not even to check whether they’re dead? I have spent too much time nibbling my fingernails and wearing a track in the carpet waiting for him to ring.

That’s why I’m at the gym. Which is nearly as momentous as the other decision I’ve reached. For the last two or possibly even three years, I’ve been paying nigh on a hundred quid a month to belong to this blasted place and I think it’s fair to say that I haven’t had my money’s worth. But all this is to change. If Neve can look as if she can compete in three triathlons before breakfast then so can I. I’m going to get fit if it kills me. And it might well do. If not, I will be transformed into a lean, mean, athletic machine before my very eyes. I haven’t been for so long that they’ve made me fill in one of their tiresome questionnaires all over again—the type that’s designed especially to make you feel like Mrs Flabby Bottom. And I’m sure the staff have got younger and more beautiful. Still, everyone knows that mindless exercise is the best cure for depression. So, bring on the sunshine!

I’m also going to give up my quest to become an earth mother. I’ve had enough hints over the last week or so that it’s time to let it rest. My boyfriend, my family, my friends and even the management at work are cheesed off with me, so it’s abundantly clear that I need to address that too.