Up early? I’ve got four kids: 2, 7, 16, 18. I like to get up before they kick my head in, and prepare for the onslaught of our two-year-old Marley’s morning excitement. Breakfast? The kids have been having me make pancakes since Pancake Day, so it’s pancakes. Riley, my seven-year-old, likes watching me flip them. Everyone knows the first two end up in the bin. Sunday exercise? I had ankle surgery recently from an old injury – I went over on it performing in Japan. In lockdown, when everybody walked the Earth, it niggled me again. I’m doing rehab training with this Welsh fellow who is head of Ealing rugby club. Sunday church? Jakki, my wife, is Catholic, so she’ll take the youngest two off to church. Keeping Marley still is an activity in itself. I don’t mind church – it’s quite peaceful. Then? We’ll head to the park to run the kids out, then I’ll pop in the butchers and pick up a chicken. Later, stick the veg on, Jakki does the roast potatoes, I’ll do the Yorkshire puddings. Sunday afternoon? I taught all the kids to ride a bike. Riley is into it now. So we’ll head to the park for a ride and she’ll want to stop at the café for chocolate muffins. Sundays past? From 1986 until we signed in 1996 we had band practice at midday every Sunday. We’d play football from 10.30 in a Sunday league, practise from 12 to 4pm, go home, put my mother’s Sunday dinner in the microwave and the peas would turn into bullets. For as long as I can remember, we’d write songs and learn cover versions on a Sunday. Sunday evenings? Watch a film with the kids. Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is very good. It has a deep underbelly of life and death, and Antonio Banderas is hysterical. Love or dread Mondays? If I’m not touring, I like taking the kids to school. On tour, you lose track of the days, but I know when it’s a Friday or Saturday because the wine comes out.