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Day One

6am: Wake up exhausted and feel like I have a cold coming on. Very much want to hit snooze but I’m booked into a 7am HIIT class and if I’m a no-show, I get charged £10. I’m a member of an exercise studio – something I never thought I’d say! I used to find places like that really intimidating and if I’m honest, a bit pretentious. But I’ve found a friendly one and have been going for over a year now, and am absolutely addicted. It costs a £115 a month but I do about five classes a week, so the cost per class is pretty good value. It’s done wonders for my stress levels, although I'm very sad to have discovered that more money does not equal visible abs. Roll out of bed, struggle into my leggings and make toast with peanut butter to eat on the way to the bus stop. Pay for the bus with my Oyster, so it feels free.

8am: Made my HIIT class but forgot to pack shoes for the day, so will be sat at my desk in my unstylish Sports Direct gym trainers. Am starting to feel very sorry for myself, so buy a fresh beetroot, ginger and apple juice on walk to office to magically cure my cold. Realise as I’m paying that I’ve left my wallet at the gym. Today is not my day. Thank god for Apple Pay. £3

12.30pm: Have spent all morning feeling lethargic and working through emails while drinking instant coffee. Pop to the Sainsbury’s across the road to buy lunch. Usually try and make extra dinner so I have leftovers for the next day but last night I just had a sandwich and lots of cheese while I watched Love Island. Buy myself another sandwich (the New Yorker from the posh range, salty but delicious) and some pickled onion Monster Munch. Yes, there may be a relationship between my carb-based diet, my current lethargy and my distinct lack of abs… £3.90

2pm: I have to present to a funding panel this afternoon, which requires energy and an image of professionalism I’m not quite sure my gym trainers give off. It's an opportunity to demonstrate the good work my team is doing to support and protect vulnerable families, but it’s also a reminder of the stranglehold central government has on local authorities and the lack of resources we have. Sometimes it feels like we spend all our time coming up with great ideas for early interventions only to have to wait for things to go into crisis so that funding can be approved to help. This usually means more trauma for the family, not to mention a bigger bill for the state in the long run. It’s exhausting and frustrating, but part of the job. Only one solution: more caffeine. I get a free Caffè Nero through my o2 priority app on Tuesdays, so stop off there on my way to the panel for a flat white.

6pm: Realise on the way home that my Oyster card is in my wallet. I can’t face going home the long way round to collect it from the gym, so swipe onto the Overground with Apple Pay. A begrudging £1.70.

8pm: I cook dinner using what’s left in my fridge from last week’s supermarket shop, so pasta with homemade vegetable sauce. I burn the sauce because I get distracted voice-noting a friend who has just come down with shingles and has had to cancel our plans for a drink this week. It’s also her 30th at the weekend so she’s pretty furious. Her being quarantined and bored does give me a captive audience for my rambled thoughts, though (turns out I have a lot of feminist theories about the turning-30 freakout). Cover up burned taste with chilli sauce, and set half aside for lunch tomorrow. Collapse on the sofa to watch Amy sob her way out of Love Island, then off to bed.

Total: £8.60