WELCOME
My ’70s childhood was filled with houseplants. An enormous Boston fern was much prized by my Mum, and even my dolls’ house had its own plastic Swiss cheese plant. I now find myself in a city-centre flat with no outside space to call my own, so houseplants are even more important to make me feel at home. And I love the ritual of caring for them, even if I do have to store tools and compost in a wheeled storage box nicknamed ‘the under-bed potting shed’. I don’t think this love of plants is entirely down to upbringing. It’s far deeper, something more like a remnant of an ancient instinct. And there’s a scientific link between plants and our health and happiness. Living With Plants is your guide to choosing the right…