Which British Sunday tradition do you cherish the most?

Yorkshire puddings the size of your face, gravy on everything, and a debate about whether the roast potatoes are crispy enough. It's basically a religion.

Whether it's a muddy ramble through the countryside or a stroll round the park, there's something deeply British about walking off lunch you haven't eaten yet.

Sprawling on the sofa with a cuppa, half the paper unread, doing the crossword badly. Pure unproductive bliss.

Fiona Bruce, a Victorian vase worth eleven grand, and the dread of Monday slowly creeping in. Domestic chores have never felt so wholesome.

A leisurely afternoon at the local, possibly with a dog at your feet and a packet of scampi fries. Tomorrow is a problem for future you.