Sundays are for finally biting the bullet and spending some of your Christmas money on a boxset of 2000s British Touring Car Championship season reviews. You stick the first DVD in, a three hour trip back through the 2000 season of car touring around the finest tarmac-filled fields Britain has to offer. You think of the American readers, and make a mental note to explain to them that the action you're watching is a bit like NASCAR, except with no oval tracks, smaller engines, and a lot more exchanges between drivers you can accurately describe as 'politely grumpy tantrum throwing'.

Nyooommmm. A Ford Mondeo flies by, Swiss ace Alain Menu at the wheel. Smash. James Thompson and Jason Plato have attempted to meld a Honda Accord and a Vauxhall Vectra together to form the world's first Honhall Veccord. Screech. Another Mondeo slides around a bend. You can't make out the number on the door. Is it Rickard Rydell or Anthony Reid at the controls? Oh smeg. It's neither. Adrian Edmondson somehow flashes a cheeky grin through a full face helmet as he dips the machine down through Paddock Hill bend.

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Sundays are for lying in bed and listening to the persistent rain beating at the skylight. It's a comforting sound but one that's become all too familiar in this seemingly endless winter. This week has at least brought murmurs of sunlight in the mornings, but for now they're often drowned out by the tap tap tap of rain.

While the sound of the rain is exhausting its welcome, the urge to stay in a cosy bed and pooh-pooh the outside remains very welcome. For now, I will put the thought that I need to go to the shops and pick up food for the week into a shoebox and hide it away under the bed, next to the lost socks and sleeping spiders.

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Sundays are for trying to work out what the hell we’re supposed to do when every videogame company above a certain scale has business links to some kind of fearful death machine. And also, for rediscovering the joys of small fan heaters. My fan heater is called Phil. He hunkers by my feet and phils (fills) my ears with a soothing roar. Occasionally I try to dry socks on him and he gets mad, switches off and sulks for 15 minutes, but beyond that, we have a pretty good working relationship. He’s humming away right now as I assemble this round-up of Top Reads.

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Sundays are for looking at your frost-crusted window and sacking off all plans of leaving the house. After all, the central heating has been broken for a week and there is no hope of a repair for another three. There is nothing outside of the confines of your duvet that's not cold.

How will you occupy your time in bed? How will you stave off the basic needs of food, micturation, and, well, cups of tea? It shall be with articles and essays, dear reader. Articles and essays.

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Sundays are for writing your first ever Sunday Papers. Though your excitement, like mine, may slip a little when you realise you've been reading almost anything but gaming articles this week. So, I shall be leaning quite heavily into the "(mostly)" in the column's mission of rounding up "great writing about (mostly) videogames".

I hope you'll be able to find as much joy in writing about bacteria, lighthouses, and life after a nuclear war as I have.

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