Sunday highlights? Spending time with Eric Cantona, my dog. He’s a nine-year-old grey French bulldog. I meet my friends for a chatty run on the heath, then my husband, Matt, will meet me and we’ll walk Eric. The dog hates walking around our park because he finds it boring.
What do you chat about? Gossip. DIY. My friend Becca is renovating her kitchen. We’re trying to move, so there’s quite a lot of very dull chat about conveyancing.
Brekkie? If we’re feeling jazzy, we’ll go to the farmers’ market. There’s an amazing stall there called Mumbai Mix that does dosas and samosas. The samosas never make it back home.
Lunch? I’m not a big fan of the Sunday roast. I’m vegan, so the main component is irrelevant. We might go to the cinema. I still get excited, like a child. Or we might get lured to a friend’s child’s birthday under the pretence of alcohol.
Any fun? We’ll try to approach it with gusto, do all the running, swinging and lifting, then leave feeling husks of our former selves and remember, next week we should go to the cinema.
Sunday evening? Whoever loses the battle of the wills has to pop to the shop for Coke Zeros and snacks. For dinner, we’ll have whatever is in the fridge that can be assembled into a meal. If Matt’s cooking, it’ll be a vegan burger and chips. If I’m cooking, a Thai soup or chilli.
Sundays growing up? We lived in a cul-de-sac, so there was a lot of ‘knock, knock, can so-and-so come out and play?’ We’d play on the green until it got dark and you’d hear: ‘Laura! Dinner’s ready!’
Teenage Laura? She would be hungover from a night out in Watford town centre, no question, watching Bridget Jones or the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice.
Time Travel is Dangerous is in cinemas now