Suddenly our family life becomes an unfunny sitcom

My daughter is crying. She is holding a tiny red London bus, one of her favourite toys, and the terrible thing that has happened to her is that she has smashed our television with it. The screen is completely destroyed, with a central impact now radiating a small spider web of white lines, within a larger morass of jagged, blocky blues, greens and purples that crowd out the picture on its surface.

I am too stunned to move, the impact having happened so fast that I’ve yet to process it at all. My first thoughts, such as they exist in this zen-like state of paralysis, are of the immediate financial cost of what she’s done. Thus, the denial phase of grief kicks in swiftly. I switch the TV off, perhaps hoping the very clearly annihilated screen is a signal fault. I turn it back on, dismayed to discover that no, this was not an emergency broadcast from Smashed Telly Gold +1; my two-year-old has just managed to do £400’s worth of damage in two-fifths of a second.

With the little homes the passengers build for themselves out of laptops and crisps, it’s microcosmic

Yesterday I was on a train for six hours – three there, three back, through two time zones and three weather conditions, and all of it without my headphones. Around me, passengers built little homes for themselves out of laptops and crisps, a whole universe on a plastic fold-down table. The computer screen acted primarily as a barrier, an emotional-load-bearing wall. Objects and arms were removed from sleeves and erected in delicate piles – illusions of privacy were magicked in the quiet coach. Rooms were fashioned on laps behind seats, or ideas of rooms; walled, breaded concepts – here is a kitchenette formed from Pret a Manger baguettes and precarious coffees, here is the memory-foam neck pillow, a portable bedroom, and here onscreen at 250km an hour is a working office, fizzing with legitimacy and blue light. I looked around with love at this side of us, we silly animals, building homes out of sticks anywhere we sit for longer than 20 minutes.

On smaller screens, my travelling neighbour pecked at a two-hour game of Candy Crush, while across the aisle a young man (blue jumper, skin that appeared to be enamelled) was playing blackjack. I looked over occasionally – through his window I could see the newbuild flats with their enclosed balconies, each one filled with boxes, and duvets and pillows pressed face-like against the glass – but for a long time I couldn’t tell if the man was winning, his face remained terribly still.

You might think Dame Sheila Hancock would be taking life a little easy – no chance. She talks about her working-class roots, being lucky in love, the frustration of being passed over for serious roles – and why she’s fed up
with feeling anxious

These last few weeks, Sheila Hancock has surrendered. “I’m addicted, really,” she’s confessing. “I just can’t stop myself. I’m at it every night, without fail.” She halts, shakes her head, looks troubled, momentarily. “And everyone is fucking crying all the time. I can’t understand why for the life of me.” She leans forward, blue eyes piercing. Clocking my confusion, she grins wryly. “I’m talking about that television show, darling. What’s it called? No, don’t tell me. I’ll get there.”

Her old pal Gyles Brandreth, Hancock informs me, always makes her find the word she’s searching for when it escapes her. “He won’t chip in. ‘You must remember it yourself,’ he says, ‘because not doing so makes you forget.’ So I do, when forced.”

For the Beyond Paradise actor, happy Sundays are all about the plot

What’s an average Sunday? I share an allotment with my friend, which is wonderful. We grow turnips, parsnips and tromboncinos, which are in the squash family and a bit phallic. It’s a really peaceful thing to do and it calms me.

Is it hard to get an allotment? You have to go on a waiting list. One of my big regrets is that I didn’t do it with my kids. Now they’re grown up, they look at me as if I’m a mad woman when I say I’m going down to the allotment. But it’s full of young couples with young children, digging.

Is there allotment envy? Yes. There’s always someone better than you. There’s a lady who does French squashes in the most extraordinary shapes, and someone else who has a magical bottomless pit of potatoes. My friend Caroline sorts out our logistics. She’s always getting gets me to build structures and hang nets to stop the birds eating all the cavolo nero.

Have you got a shed? We share a shed. There’s a lot of diplomacy. If a rake slips slightly on to someone else’s side, I become nervous and I push it back. Shed etiquette is very important.

Is it a happy place? Yes. As an actor, you have to use your brain and nerves. It’s wonderful on a Sunday morning to unlock the gate to the secret garden and see the wonder of what’s growing. (Why hasn’t anyone written a sitcom about an allotment? I might one day.) On the way home I like to steal into different churches.

Such as? On Christmas Day I went into the Russian Orthodox Church up the road. It was one of the most magical experiences of my life. I like travelling on the bus on a Sunday, because it’s slow and I can watch people. I might go to a choral evensong, or I might just have my mates round and we’ll get all horrendously drunk. It’s not PC here at all.

Would divorce make matters better or worse?

The question I have been married for 18 years to a man I now consider difficult. Over the past few years, I’ve realised he has serious issues, particularly severe OCD that has left him barely functioning. He refuses help, citing concerns it might affect future emigration plans, despite being unable to leave the house. I spent years trying to support and help him recover.

He is stubborn, driven by pride, and a year ago insisted on emigrating, believing it would solve his problems. I resisted, fearing instability with small children and his unresolved issues. His failure to create a concrete plan has left emigration a constant tension in our lives. He accuses me of being risk-averse, while I feel I can’t trust his leadership.

After a troubled start, this family-run Yemeni outpost in York has won a loving following in the local community

Yemen Heaven, 98 Walmgate, York YO1 9TL. Meze £7, large dishes £15-£21.95, desserts £6-£9, wines from £23

Some restaurants are just a nice place to go for dinner. Yemen Heaven in York is obviously that. You will eat well there. The black seeded flatbreads, the breadth of over-sized dinner plates, are soft and crisp. There’s a pleasing creaminess to the spice-dusted, oil-dribbled, tahini-rich hummus that comes topped with a single shiny black olive, the savoury equivalent of a cherry on top. But the restaurant is more than that. Much like Arabic Flavour in Aberystwyth, which I visited last year, it is both the story of exile and an act of memory. It is the product of one woman’s determination to maintain her family’s traditions; to free the country of her birth from a single narrative of war and hardship, however overwhelming that narrative might seem right now.

The performance artist shocked 1980s London with his surreal outfits, outlandish lifestyle and collaborations with Lucian Freud, dancer Michael Clark and others. As a major exhibition opens at Tate Modern, family and friends talk about Bowery’s larger-than-life legacy

In October 1980, 19 year-old Leigh Bowery arrived in London from the small Australian town of Sunshine in suburban Melbourne. He brought with him a single suitcase and a portable sewing machine. A few months later, he spent his first Christmas away from home in a rented bedsit feeling depressed and lonely. On 31 December, he attempted to raise his spirits by writing down his new year resolutions:

1. Get weight down to 12 stone.
2. Learn as much as possible.
3. Become established in the world of art, fashion or literature.
4. Wear makeup every day.

Encouraging kids to play with fire? Hear us out, says party worried by the Netherlands’ increasingly sedentary ways

Ten-year-old Jackie stood with a small pan in the flames of an open fire, chatting merrily, when her popcorn caught alight.

With no sign of panic, her mother put out the flames in a nearby ditch. Then Jackie and her eight-year-old brother, Michael, calmly cooked a ­second batch.

Elevate your look with a stylish pair of kitten heels

On trend hoods, eye-catching tights and David Beckham models for Boss

On a months-long overseas trip, Melanie Kinsman craved someone to talk to other than Sam, her partner. He stepped up to the challenge with a comical impersonation

• Find more stories from The moment I knew series here

In 2004 I was a young writer at the University of Adelaide. I was working as an editor on an anthology of short stories when a piece by Sam came across my desk. We emailed back and forth for a while, working on the story, but I never met him in person.

A few months later, I was out in town with some friends and noticed he was there. While we’d never crossed paths in real life, I knew what he looked like. In my fairly inebriated state I decided a great way to introduce myself would be to walk up to him and start reciting excerpts of his story. I don’t know what I was trying to achieve, but I made an impression and he was obviously flattered.

The horticultural charity’s showpiece garden in Surrey is setting aside an space to test human waste fertiliser

For more than 200 years, gardeners at the Royal Horticultural Society (RHS) have been reaping the benefits of using compost and manure in their flowerbeds.

But until now, they have never had the satisfaction of using compost created from their own human waste.

A fourth film about Helen Fielding’s creation will be released on Valentines’s day, and this time it’s gen Z that has fallen in love with her

Bridget Jones is back. The fabled diary (probably a Surface Pro now) has snapped back open. The cigarettes are doubtless replaced by a Vaporesso vape.

The new film, Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy, again starring Renée Zellweger, is being released into cine­mas on Valentine’s day, which feels appropriate. One of the most emotionally charged days of the year for the return of one of Britain’s more emotionally charged exports.

The chef, 54, talks about her foodie mum, historian dad, troubled teenage years and and being appointed MBE

I was a happy kid, president of the school at 11, then went on to St Paul’s Girls’ School. I was supposed to be a barrister, because I was good at chat and liked debating. Mum was the foodie. We were always making things in the kitchen while my sister was in the garden.

I went to every outpost of the Roman Empire as a kid. My dad [Colin McEvedy] was a psychiatrist, but his love was history; he sold a million copies of his history books. Holidays were going to see a mausoleum, measuring cannonballs in a castle in Istanbul, clambering over rocks. I didn’t have a beach holiday until I was 28.

Learn how to master tricky February dressing with our fashion expert

• From waterproof boots to invisible jackets: this winter’s wardrobe essentials

I am fond of February. It means January is over, which is cause for celebration already. The end-of-season sale rails have gone, so shop windows are again a source of new ideas. The weather is still rubbish, obviously, but the light is coming back: with a pinch of luck, you may even see daylight on the way home from the office by the end of February. The first snowdrops are nearly here. I like Valentine’s Day, which I know is deeply uncool of me, but I like pink and I like chocolate, so what’s not to love?

But February can be a challenge to dress for. The novelty of snuggly knits and shiny boots has well and truly worn off at this point, and maintaining enthusiasm for cold-weather dressing is a chore. Please keep reading for a puffer coat update and a fresh layering formula, not to mention a top-tier edit of the most delectable and affordable treats I’ve scouted from February’s shelves. No time to waste, my friends: another good thing about February is that it’s only 28 days long. Let’s hear it for a month that’s not just short, but also surprisingly sweet.

When Eric’s sex drive started to wane, Violet knew exactly how to increase his desire

• How do you do it? Share the story of your sex life, anonymously

Violet is beautiful, she always has been, and as Miss Fifi she puts on sexy underwear, which really turns me on

Hospitality experts, sleep consultants and interior designers share their tips for creating dream conditions in your bedroom

Have you ever slept better in a hotel than at home, but are not sure why? Perhaps it’s the sheer fact of not being at home, surrounded by to-do lists – but according to these sleep, design and health experts, there’s a science behind a good night’s sleep.

From the size of your bed to the cotton of your sheets, to the clutter in your bedroom to the lighting in your bathroom, they share their tips and best buys for a great sleep, wherever you are.

Exploring themes of identity, heritage and individuality, the Ghanaian photographer used surreal colours to add a dreamlike quality

Reginald Kofi Boateng had spent his morning scouting the perfect location and gathering props. “The day was steeped with intention,” says Boateng, who comes from Koforidua, in eastern Ghana and now lives in Dansoman, in the capital, Accra.

“Dansoman is a sprawling estate and a place of contrasts,” he says. “Stories are waiting to be uncovered in its bustling streets and quiet corners. This setting became the perfect backdrop to explore themes of identity, heritage and individuality.”

As the dumping of textile waste continues in African countries, designers are making a feature of reusing and recycling – from flea markets, landfill or upcyled curtains

From recycled wide-leg denims to Afrofuturistic designs made from secondhand curtains, the catwalk at Nairobi fashion week has featured a wave of new designers focussed on sustainable fashion in Africa.

The annual event, which began in 2013 to promote Africa’s then nascent fashion industry, has grown to become a showcase for sustainability in recent years amid concerning reports on the environmental impacts of textile waste on the continent.

Holly, 42, an NHS service manager, meets Johnny, 45, a product manager

What were you hoping for?
A new experience that would push me out of my comfort zone. Meeting someone I liked would be a bonus.

From yearning for a ‘strong leader’ to being swept up in riots, the portents for our children are not good – and who can blame them for being so disillusioned, asks Marina Hyde. Oscar-nominated Cynthia Erivo has gone stratospheric as Elphaba in Wicked – what next for one of Britain’s brightest stars? And new research shows western medicine’s traditional split between brain and body is far from clear cut – could this new understanding provide a breakthrough for many complex conditions?

Ten years ago, Jo Nemeth quit her job and closed her bank account. Today, she’s more committed than ever to her moneyless life

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Sharon Brodie clearly remembers her first Christmas with her good friend Jo Nemeth. It was 2016 and also her first Christmas without her husband, Monty, who had died suddenly a month earlier.

“I didn’t even want to be alive,” says Brodie from her home in Lismore, northern New South Wales. “I definitely didn’t want to go to the shops or buy presents or do anything. But Jo had come to stay with us [Brodie and her two teenage boys] to help out, and on Christmas Eve I told her my gift to her was that we could go dumpster diving, which I’d never done before – and we did, that night.

Agreement between farmers, politicians and environmental groups led to a €170m action fund for plant based food

“Plant-based foods are the future.” That is not a statement you would expect from a right-wing farming minister in a major meat-producing nation. Denmark produces more meat per capita than any other country in the world, with its 6 million people far outnumbered by its 30 million pigs, and it has a big dairy industry too. Yet this is how Jacob Jensen, from the Liberal party, introduced the nation’s world-first action plan for plant-based foods.

“If we want to reduce the climate footprint within the agricultural sector, then we all have to eat more plant-based foods,” he said at the plan’s launch in October 2023, and since then the scheme has gone from strength to strength. Backed by a €170m government fund, it is now supporting plant-based food from farm to fork, from making tempeh from broad beans and a chicken substitute from fungi to on-site tastings at kebab and burger shops and the first vegan chef degree.