Sunday highlights? The farmers’ market in north London, now that I’ve worked my way into being middle-class. I’ll buy smoked trout, organic chickens, pheasant, vegetables and a very good Chinese chilli oil.

How do you get there? On one of those electric bikes, like Uber cyclists. I’m usually stealthed up with a mask, else people go: ‘There’s Paul Chowdhry on a bike. What you doing on a bike, bruv?’

Do you cook? I live on my own, so I have no choice. I’ll have a big brunch, then lie around watching YouTube.

What do you watch? That’s a good question. Nowadays, you don’t even know. You just scroll through stuff. Then I might go to the gym.

Who’s at the gym Sunday? Losers, loners, and reclusives, like me.

Sunday evening? I’ll make dinner from what I bought from the farmers’ market. Before freezing most of the stuff you think: ‘Might as well eat that.’ Chuck some chicken in the air fryer, maybe some mash. You need some veg, so chuck on a tomato, and Bob’s your auntie, you’ve made a meal.

Can’t you batch cook? I can’t be bothered. Plus, I’m usually on tour, so I’ll just eat whatever the tour manager brings in for dinner from the local Turkish or Indian restaurant. I had a curry the other night that I could still feel two days later.

Sunday cleaning? My cleaner ghosted me. She didn’t even say: ‘I’m not available.’ I’m a bit of a germophobe, my house is so clean, there’s not much to do. I’ve got a Dyson, which is bloody expensive for a Hoover, but it gets the job done.

Sundays growing up? We’d go to temple in north London, then a big family lunch with cousins and relatives with lots of Indian food. When you get older you realise that’s all disappeared and you’re on your own.

Paul Chowdhry: Englandia tours until late May (paulchowdhry.com)