Up early? We have a 15-month-old baby, so we’re up at 6.30 – she comes into bed for pancakes. It’s my favourite time of the week. If I’ve been away working, Sunday is sacred – me, my wife and our little girl in bed together. Who makes the pancakes? It varies. My wife does healthy pancakes. For fluffy American ones, I’m your guy. Morning stroll? We live between Cambridge and London, so we’ll go into town for a shop-up or bowl-about. I’m all for getting as much out of a Sunday as you can. Sunday lunch? I come from a place where men only step into the kitchen at Christmas to do the roast potatoes. Who can do the crispiest roast potatoes is like who’s driving the best car. Mine are very special. Else we’ll go out. Sitting around with other people while all eating a Sunday roast is one of the British traditions I’m proudest of. Sundays growing up? My dad would take me to whatever sport I was destined to fail at: football, rugby, long-distance running. Then home for a Sunday roast, Football Italia and Granny and Grandad coming over to watch the Antiques Roadshow, Last of the Summer Wine or Heartbeat. I’d always hope to get an extra 45 minutes before bed. Sunday housework? I’m obsessed with my new Dyson. I might do a little oovering. I love cleaning the patio. There’s a moment when you step out into your patio, spring rings on, you plug in your pressure washer and feel like you’re a cowboy taking on a town of outlaws. Sunday unwind? We’ve got an amazing Nepalese restaurant near us, so we might have a Nepalese takeaway, a bit of ‘us’ time, and decompress for the week. Love or dread Mondays? You’ve got to go two-footed into a Monday. You can’t be scared. You have to look Monday in the eye and say: ‘Here we go again. It’s another dance.’ When I worked on building sites, that was a tougher Monday. But now it’s all gravy, baby.