Sunday grub? I tend to not go out. I’m reverting to society’s convention that one has to stay in, cook and take it easy. I’m happy to go along with that. Last Sunday we had roast lamb.

Who’s eating? My wife, my son and my father, who lives next door. It’s a multigenerational household, which replicates my own childhood with a pleasing circularity. My grandparents lived with us, so we’d have a roast with friends and neighbours. Now we like to have people over.

Sunday me time? I’d maybe cycle around Richmond Park, which I also did last Sunday. It was lovely, actually. Or I’ll get a bag of falafel and head up to the Ridgeway and watch the red kites.

The birds? Yes. The birds of prey. If you can get to an elevated point, you can look down on them hovering just off the hill and see the backs of their bodies that are very red with these beautiful fork tails.

Visit to the tip? Oh, I love the tip. The secret is to go in the middle of the night. We used to go to Wandsworth tip, and then on to the flower market at Nine Elms. There’s a nice contrast between huge, monolithic piles of stinking rubbish and the fragrant hall of Nine Elms, where you can get egg and chips any time of the day.

How do you relax? Playing cards has become a bit of a ritual. It’s very convivial, but you realise how competitive people are. It gets quite heated. We might watch a film. And we’ve got a very nice pub within staggering distance of the house. That’s become a good place to hang out, especially over the summer.

How do you feel about Mondays? I sometimes need to be reminded what day it is. The days all blur into one. I go outside and look at the volume of traffic to gauge what day it is.

Bill Bailey performs Thoughtifier nightly at London’s Theatre Royal Haymarket from 28 December. His memoir, My Animals, and Other Animals, is on sale now (billbailey.co.uk)