How does the day start? With a cup of tea (two sugars, full-fat milk), whether I’ve been woken up by two young children storming into the bedroom or I’ve just stepped in from a nightshift working at A&E. Do you work? Sunday is normally for family time, but they understand that right now things are tough. I check in with my team every morning. Many of my constituents in Tooting, London, are struggling, and being part of the shadow cabinet means there’s lots to do. And while I’ve always done shifts as a doctor during parliament’s recess, when the pandemic hit I dropped my Labour party deputy leadership campaign to spend more time on the NHS frontline. What’s your perfect post-lockdown Sunday? A walk to a favourite bakery, teaching the girls piano, going to visit my dad. We were so worried he wasn’t eating properly that last Sunday we walked past his care home and waved at him across the fence. He has dementia, and doesn’t understand why we’re not there. Sundays growing up? My parents weren’t together and there wasn’t much money – Mum had to work multiple jobs. We lacked material things, but my brother and I were enriched by her incredible imagination. Do you cook? I’m more of a lamb than a roast chicken lady, with a penchant for roast potatoes. Right now time is tight, and we’re surrounded by great takeaways. My go-to is Spice Village on Upper Tooting Road. How do you wind down? Making up dance routines with the kids; once they’re in bed, it’s with another cup of tea and a TV drama. Immersing myself takes me out of my head for a while, when so much of my day is spent worrying about my constituents, my children, my patients, my dad. I don’t tend to need much sleep, although I never have trouble sleeping: that’s years of training – a doctor thing.