Early riser? More often than not I’ll wake up on a Sunday with a hangover, but however bad it is I try to drag myself out of bed by 10. What’s for breakfast? I’ll have toast with peanut butter or Marmite, and save myself for a nice Sunday lunch. I’ll either cook one at home and eat it in the garden with friends, or head to the Gatehouse Pub in Highgate. If I’m not due to be up early on the Monday I make the most of Sundays. I’ll say to people, ‘Look, it’s still the weekend. We’re still entitled to this fun day off.’ Then I find out where the roast and red wine vibes are. Sunday exercise? I haven’t exercised in months. I don’t have time. A tipple? I do like to have a medicinal Sunday red with mates. We’ll have one bottle. Each. But I’ll make sure I’m home to do boring things like laundry by 7pm. Sundays growing up? I loved them. They’d be spent either in my Auntie Amy’s kitchen, or, because my mum is Paul McCartney’s second cousin, we’d spend the odd Sunday lunch at his farm. The next time I see him I’m going to invite him back to mine for a Sunday roast. I owe him. Sunday nights? I tend to stay in. I’ll sit down with my dog and do a crossword, then watch something easy on TV: – Mrs Doubtfire, Chicken Run. Any rituals? I finish watching the telly, make sure the house is nice and tidy, then I get in bed with a herbal tea and a candle. I read a book for about five minutes or talk to friends, then go back on Instagram. Sunday scaries? If I’m being silly and not looking after myself I definitely get the Sunday glooms, where you feel like you haven’t done your homework. My grandma used to say, ‘It’s the work that you don’t do that wears you out,’ and I really try to live by that. I try to get all my homework done so that I don’t get told off by the headmaster, the headmaster in this case being my agent Martha, who is also my sister.