Up early? Our Cavapoo, Sebby, enjoys getting me up at the crack of dawn, so by 7.30 we’re out the door heading for Streatham or Wandsworth Common, rain or shine. It’s nice – you get chatting to other dog walkers.
What’s for breakfast? Occasionally my wife [Kirsty] and I will cook a fry-up: bacon, egg, sausage, beans, toast, black pudding and tea. If not, we’ll snack until we have a Sunday roast around three or four. It’ll just be me and my wife: our eldest daughter is at university and our youngest daughter won’t be out of bed until 2pm.
Sundays growing up? It was all about football. I’d play for my school on Saturday and then for my Sunday league team. By 8am I’d be getting in a poky little van with my mates and driving to some godforsaken part of Birmingham to play on a muddy pitch with stones and glass. It was joyous. Then I’d go home with a few mates and my mum would cook for everybody.
Sunday mornings now? I will tune in to a couple of episodes of Columbo. Peter Falk is a genius, and I love those old stars playing the baddies. It takes me back to being a kid. Then the sport starts: Formula One or a big football match. I become a complete couch potato.
Late afternoon? The sport lasts all afternoon. My wife will be downstairs braiding my daughter’s hair. I’m left to my own devices, which is wonderful. I might pop to the shed, prune some bushes in the garden, or head to Brixton on my bike and sit outside with a sneaky beer, watching the world go by. Sundays are about indulgence.
Early evening? I’ll have reheated roast beef and gravy around 8pm, with a nibble of rum, and we’ll watch a big, meaty drama.
Just before bed? My New Year’s resolution was to give myself a bedtime routine – when I’m away I tend to fall into bed, sometimes drunk. So I’m trying to take care of myself. I’ll wash my face, moisturise, maybe have a bath with Epsom salts. Then I’ll pop into my office for an hour to look at the week ahead.
David appears in World’s Most Dangerous Roads, tonight at 8pm on Dave and catch-up on UKTV Play”
