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  • For some reason the radio channels on the machines at the gym weren't working.
    My ipod refuses to switch on these days and I hate the surround stereos playing ibiza tunes.
    I know I sound old, but it really is just noise.

    This meant that while working out I was not listening to the cheery banter of Colin Murray on Radio1, but of the never ending stream of my own thoughts.
    I was frustrated as I had just had a minor arguement with the mother.
    I say minor because no shouting was involved,
    but things were certainly tense when I left the house.

    Unfortunately my mother has too much love to give.
    I am unaware of any child dying of too much love.
    But I feel I can't breathe.
    I'm 22 not 12.
    I make my own choices, have my own opinion, live my own life.
    She can't control it, control me.
    It's like a need she has; to be invovled in and to question everything I do.
    This is why I did not want to move back to Sevenoaks.

    My Dad left a voicemail message on my mobile this morning,
    "Miss Jones, it is I, your father and Livy tells me that you have a new man in your life and I think that's excellent news. I have one small and important piece of advice for you which is try your best to keep him away from Sevenoaks for as long as you possibly can, just enjoy this time for yourself.
    Lots of love, your ever loving father."

    I rang him back and he furthered this message by specifiying that "away from Sevenoaks" means "away from your mother".
    Needless to say they don't get on. They won't meet, talk, look at each other.
    My graduation was no barrel of laughs, I can tell you that.

    There was a young lad on the rowing machine in a grey tracksuit.
    He was wearing a beanie hat. He looked like a druggie. He was sporting a shiner too.
    I came to the gym at the golden oldie time. The express zone was overflowing with very stiff and wrinkly old people, all of whom were wearing their sunday best.
    They all looked happy.

    I was on the exercise bike, cycling through my worries.
    How am earth am I supposed to hide all this madness which swarms my family away from the new man?
    Poor chap, if he does last he will have to meet two sets of parents.
    With a protective older brother thrown in too.

    The man and I have both bought lottery tickets for the Euromillions tonight.
    If we win, we are moving to Italy.
    Even if we don't, that still sounds like a pretty good option.
    I'm seeing him on Sunday,
    and I'll be taking my passport,
    just in case.
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