Flora Watkins

If I could pinpoint the the moment last March when I could no longer pretend that lockdown wasn’t coming, it was the phone call from my favourite neighbourhood restaurant cancelling our Mother’s Day booking. The rising terror I felt was akin to the bit in The Handmaid’s Tale, just after women’s bank accounts have been frozen, but before the summary executions begin. Instead of drinking blood orange Bellinis, I’d be cooking the usual Sunday lunch, with possibly a bit of grudging help loading the dishwasher, before embarking on half a year of home school hell. Restaurants and foodie businesses have been busy reinventing themselves for the Covid era ever since then.

When my early efforts at homeschooling faltered amidst bitter recriminations and shouts of 'You are literally the worst teacher in the world!' (from a six year-old), my husband stepped up. Rubbing his hands, he declared, 'This is going to be just like Dead Poets Society'. Yet cries of 'O Captain! My Captain!' were not forthcoming. Within five minutes came the sound of doors slamming and roars of 'Will you SIT DOWN and SHUT UP!' We aren’t meant to teach our own children and attempting anything alongside that other business of trying to earn a living is farcical. But however badly you’re faring, one look at this lot should reassure that you’re doing just fine.

Just a few minutes into watching the latest Netflix sensation Lupin — its biggest-ever French show — and I was giving some serious Gallic shrugs. It’s hugely popular: it has been no. 1 in the US and was the first French series to break into their top 10. Elsewhere, Lupin is vying for Bridgerton for the number one streaming spot. Inspired by Maurice Leblanc’s stories about the gentleman thief, Arsène Lupin, the show’s success has prompted fresh print runs of the books, first published in 1905. (Some had sold out on Amazon when I checked last week but have now been restocked.) But watching the show is a strangely dislocating and downright weird experience.

It takes a certain amount of chutzpah to remake a film that is already considered a peerless masterpiece. Netflix was roundly trashed for attempting it with Rebecca. 'Superficial and slapdash' was the New Yorker’s verdict (one of the kinder ones): 'somewhere between a lukewarm retread of Hitchcock’s original and a glossy Instagram feed'. As for the BBC’s Christmas three-part adaptation of Black Narcissus, not even Diana Rigg in her final role could save it from coruscating comparisons with the 1947 Powell and Pressburger film.  This year will see remakes, prequels and sequels of Top Gun, Cinderella and 101 Dalmations to name but three.

This February 14th might be the one night of Lockdown 3.0 when it’s no hardship to have to stay at home. Who really wants to go to a restaurant on Valentine’s Day, full of couples who never usually speak to one other? The food is invariably as naff as a Forever Friends foil balloon; everything comes drizzled with pink coulis and at some point you’ll be offered a single red rose for your beloved which has been flown half-way round the world, stiffened with chemicals and devoid of scent. But nor should you think of cooking — bar a bit of finishing off here and there. So don’t say it with flowers, say it with one of these divinely decadent food deliveries.  My bloody Valentine Hawksmoor At Home have surpassed themselves with their Valentine’s box.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a British actor in possession of a hit series and a face that hasn’t been thrashed by the ugly stick will, at some point, be mooted as the next Bond. So it’s surprising that it took Ladbrokes almost a fortnight after the period drama Bridgerton dropped on Netflix on Christmas Day to slash the odds on its star, Regé-Jean Page, becoming 007. For anyone still uninitiated, Bridgerton is the love child of Jane Austen and Jilly Cooper. It’s a Regency romp for those who feel that Georgette Heyer would be improved by more action on the library ladder.

It wasn’t the easiest news to have to break, but he delivered it with the kindness and compassion of a favourite uncle explaining to his nephew that his hamster has passed away. Afterwards, we were left thinking, “Well, what is a 20.4 per cent slump in the economy between friends, anyway?” Even the announcement that the UK is in the deepest recession of any G7 nation hasn’t taken the shine off Rishi Sunak’s approval rating, which remains light years ahead of other members of the government. When the Chancellor declares “we’ll do whatever it takes”, we believe him.