Wake-up time? I’m a party boy, so I’ll have been out until the early hours. I’ll wake about 11am with a sense of shame and a few texts from friends, checking I actually made it home and didn’t end up in Ibiza.
Sunday breakfast? I’m the master of breakfast. Highly skilled. l’ll whip up a full English or French toast with maple syrup and bacon, or a fully loaded omelette. We’re talking mushroom, peppers, sweetcorn, spinach, chorizo and two different cheeses. Philadelphia’s good but it burns quickly. If you take anything away from this conversation, be wary of Philadelphia.
To drink? Fruit juice. I don’t mess around with hot drinks, unless it’s hot chocolate – although on set I do sometimes order a coffee just because someone else has. I’m suggestible like that.
Sunday tunes? Kanye West’s Sunday Service will be on in the background while I’m eating.
A Sunday stroll? I live by the Thames barrier. On a sunny day, I’ll pull on a tracksuit, stroll by the river and get myself a smoothie.
Who do you visit? Every other weekend, I’ll go to my mum’s in East Ham. When I lived there, I was like, ‘Get me out of this house!’ Now it’s nice to see her, but then be able to leave again. She might cook ribs or chicken wings. Never a roast. They’re not a thing in our family.
Sunday evening? I’ll catch up on phone calls and check in with my sisters. There’s a lot of them. On my dad’s side, I’ve got nine. Usually my housemate will have cooked chicken or lamb in our Ninja 9-in-1 air fryer. It’s my third meat-based meal of the day. I’m living like Henry VIII every single Sunday. If I get gout, someone’s going to come back to this article and say the signs were there.
Sundays growing up? Boring. Mum was quite strict and would make us get our stuff done for school: homework, iron our shirts, polish our shoes. That’s probably why I now do the bare minimum on Sundays.
Bedtime? I’ll do my skincare routine and go to sleep about midnight. The last thing I look at is my emails to see if I’m working early tomorrow and should’ve gone to bed earlier. ‘Oh shit, I’m getting picked up at 5.15am.’ I did.