Sunday evenings are always the days I really, really understand why I am still living at home. A Sunday roast---followed by fruit crumble, really really good fruit crumble---is one of the best essay distractions around. I sometimes feel sorry for my future-children, though. I will never be able to perfect a roast like my mum can.
Nor will I ever get over the hilarity of power-cuts---especially when your father is using a walking-frame, you are puppy-sitting and the only really useful thing you can find in the dark is a glow-stick.
But the essay is done.