Inside the north London house of the man who transformed British design

I had an idea of London inside my head from English films. Every film made in London was art, but from Hollywood it was junk. I was an arrogant teen!” says a smiling Ron Arad of his decision to leave Tel Aviv and move to London in 1973, at the age of 22.

Arad, who studied architecture, under pressure from his mother, at the Architectural Association school in London, is sporting his trademark round felt hat. He is sitting on a curvaceous Victoria & Albert crimson sofa, one of his own pieces, created for the Italian furniture brand Moroso , in the conservatory of his north London home. Along with his wife, Alma, who works as a psychologist, they have lived here for more than 30 years, raising their daughters, Lail and Dara, who both live nearby.

The singer, 51, on making memories, disliking therapy, and a terrifying meeting with Grace Jones

I used to ask my dad if I could marry him. He was my hero. My first memory is being devastated that he had to go to work, I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t stay at home with me. He wasn’t perfect. He made a mess of things in some ways. But he remained iconic to me, and showed me how to appreciate life. He made friends with everyone.

Dad died a few years ago and I was surprised. He once saved a monk falling down an escalator at Heathrow airport and they all blessed him afterwards. I thought it was impossible for him to die.

I always loved adults more than other kids. I grew up in a tribe of incredibly flawed people. People who made mistakes. But I could always see that they were amazing, too. I was patient with adults in a way that I wasn’t with other children, I think because I always had an interest in adult things.

My upbringing was cultured and exciting. I was surrounded by poetry and books and live music. One day, Dad came home with the cockpit of a Second World War bomber. It stayed in the living room for ages. That was my life growing up.

I’ve got a temper. I’m Irish. But it comes out much less than it used to. I guess that’s growing up. I’ve done therapy, it wasn’t great, it felt like a waste of time. I’m very good at talking people round to my side of things. The last therapist I had agreed with me too much. I put on a good show. I’m a performer.

I think our culture is too hedonistic. People really party now, it’s not like it was in the 90s, going out once in a while. The dance scene in the 80s and 90s was so wonderful, but I always thought that pure hedonism was a dead end. I was never interested in that. I was interested in adventure.

I mourn the passing of that time I knew. No phones, genuine freedom, actual connection with other people.

My biggest fear is losing my memory. Losing memories of the culture I grew up in. Losing history. I’m always trying to capture memories, to remember them. The fear is in me that I won’t be able to find them, I won’t remember these things any more.

The last time I cried was at Christmas. I was sick and coughing in the middle of the night and it wouldn’t go away. I didn’t have cancer, though, just a chest infection. I’m a bit of a hypochondriac. It’s a guilt thing. I think to myself, “You can’t be having this much fun and not pay some kind of price for it.”

I love Grace Jones, but I was petrified of meeting her. A few years back a friend and I went to see her in Florence. She’s one of my biggest influences and she was brilliant that night. We ended up back at the hotel she was staying in because we knew the gig promoter. She walked in, took one look at us, turned to her people, and said, “Get these people out of here.”

I like getting older. I hesitate to call it wisdom, because you can think you’re wise and then very quickly life can remind you that you’re not. But I’m proud of what I’ve done as an artist.

Hit Parade Remixes by Róisín Murphy is out now. Róisín plays London’s Love Motion festival on 26 July

The gold medal-winner on getting a free pass from admiring schoolteachers and the day he could finally admit he was no longer an athlete

Born in Farnborough, Kent, in 1974, Iwan Thomas is a former British athlete and media personality. He began his sporting career when he was nine and became a world-class BMX rider at 14, before discovering his passion for sprinting. He was one of the world’s fastest men between 1995 and 1998, winning silver in the 4x400m at the 1996 Olympics, gold in the relay at the European Cup and gold, retrospectively, in the 4x400m at the world championships. He held the British 400m record for 25 years, with a time of 44.36 set in 1997. After a string of injuries, Thomas has since segued into broadcasting, regularly hosting The One Show and commentating for TV and radio. His memoir, Brutal , is out now.

This is me posing in my parent s’ garden after coming back from the European championships in Holland. I had crashed in my BMX race, which was annoying as I probably should have won. I was so disappointed I said to Dad, “I’m going to race in cruisers instead.” It wasn’t my usual event – cruiser bikes are normally for the bigger boys or adults – but I wanted another chance. The risk paid off. I came fourth. A good result.

Friction in the fields is wreaking havoc in the bedroom for farmers and parents Rosie and Brian

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

There is something hot about being a farmer, but working together is tricky – Brian can nitpick to a degree that doesn’t make a difference for the sheep

I was there through their infirmity, incontinence, our cohabitation - and suddenly I was fired

Like an organised criminal, my mother no longer communicates by phone. Visiting her can be convoluted, but it beats the days when I thought I might never get away. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. Her, I tell very little, until I arrive. Plans and possibilities weigh heavily on Mum’s mind, raising questions whose answers she cannot remember, stranding her in her own inquiries. Now I plot my appearances carefully with her live-in care worker so that everything deliberate can seem like a nice surprise.

When my father died in 2021 I thought my mother might thrive on her own. Instead, it was as though her concern for – and consternation with – him were the last thing on her mind’s to-do list before it tendered its own resignation. With a mild but manifest case of vascular dementia, Mum will hopefully turn 96 this year, though she now merits round-the-clock surveillance. A team of care workers ensure she is safe at home, an arrangement that releases me, my sister and brother into the ambivalent privilege of not being around.

The New Zealand-born photographer was planning to take a portrait of a farm owner when two animals caught his eye

For the last two years, Mark Aitken has been working on a photo series in Lapland. “It’s called Presence of Absence ,” he says, “and it explores the liminal and sometimes uncanny boundaries between life and death experienced by people living in this extreme climate and landscape.”

Aitken, who was born in New Zealand, raised in South Africa and has lived in London for years, took this photo in spring of this year, on a sheep farm. “Kukkola is a borderland hamlet in Finnish Lapland on the River Tornio, near Sweden. The farm has been running for 20 years and this lamb is one of about 100 born in March and April,” he says.

The singer on sleeping like a log, a very special recording, and being told by a manager that everyone hated him

Born in Staffordshire, Fran Healy, 50, grew up in Scotland. In 1991, he enrolled at the Glasgow School of Art and joined the band that became Travis. In 1999, they released their second album, The Man Who, securing best album at the 2000 Brits as well as best group, an award they also won in 2002. Their hits include Why Does It Always Rain on Me? and Sing, and Healy has two Ivor Novellos for his songwriting. LA Times, Travis’s 10th album, is out on 12 July; the band’s headline tour begins in December. Healy is separated, has a son and lives in Los Angeles.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
I’m incredibly patient with a lot of stuff, but incredibly impatient with other things. I deplore the impatient side.

The new buzzword in fashion is ‘excessories’ – accessories that have that little bit extra
• 51 brilliant summer accessories

Accessories is a silly word. Sounds like the kind of fripperies you might find in a dressing up box. Surplus-to-requirements bells and whistles, like fascinators and hair ribbons and floral corsages. But the best accessories are, actually, necessaries.

This is more true than ever in summer. It is not an exaggeration to say that the right accessories are essential for good times in the sunny months. You need shoes that you can walk on grass in without sinking. A basket big enough to sling in a water bottle and your sunscreen. Sunglasses so that you can take your lunch hour outside without squinting.

The stylish garment has been sported by Austin Butler in The Bikeriders, by Little Simz on stage and even by bicycle commuters

They rule the racing track but now motocross jackets are roaring up the style charts too. Featuring patchworked leather with colourful racing insignia, motocross jackets, more commonly known as biker jackets, have become a surprising summer hit, as likely to be spotted on Lime-biking commuters as on track riders.

Last weekend at Glastonbury, Little Simz took to the Pyramid Stage in a black, red and white biker jacket emblazoned with her name. Over the four-day festival, the crowd was divided between team denim jacket and team biker.