The Sunday Times Magazine - UK (2021-02-14)

58 • The Sunday Times Magazine

The political interviewer on his Presbyterian

work ethic — and brushes with mortality

Andrew Marr

A Life in the Day

M

arr, 61, was born in

Glasgow and educated

at Trinity College, Cambridge.

He was editor of The Independent

before joining the BBC as

political editor in 2000. He

presents The Andrew Marr

Show on BBC One and Start

the Week for Radio 4. In 2013

Marr suffered a stroke that left

him partially paralysed. He lives

in Primrose Hill, northwest

London, with his wife, the

journalist Jackie Ashley, and two

of their three grown-up children.

I wake at 6.30 and

have breakfast

with my wife and

daughters. I’m silent and slightly

grumpy. I read all the papers

online with two or three pints of

scalding-hot coffee. Once upon

a time there’d be a packet of

cigarettes as well.

My left side is semi-paralysed,

so there are lots of things I can’t

do. I can’t run, I can’t cycle, I can’t

swim. I’m not an angry person,

but I am driven to distraction by

WORDS OF

WISDOM

BEST ADVICE

I WAS GIVEN

“There is a cure for

a’thing [everything] ...

except a swelled

heid [swollen head].”

Family lore, much

quoted by my father

ADVICE I’D GIVE

Work hard and be kind

WHAT I WISH

I’D KNOWN

You’re only young once

the post-stroke world. It’s the

tiny things: I can’t do buttons

or lace shoes. And I’m prone to

dropping things, from jars of

marmalade to phones and books.

After a workout in my study

with a kettlebell, I’m at my desk

reading and writing most of the

morning and afternoon. Start the

Week involves digesting three

substantial books. And there are

briefing papers. From Thursday

I talk and fact-crunch endlessly

with researchers on my TV show,

upon whose shoulders the whole

edifice rests. On Saturdays we

have a Zoom team meeting,

then I’m at up five on Sunday to

record the programme.

Why do I drive myself so

hard? The facile answer is I have

a short attention span. If a day

isn’t crammed with incident,

it’s dull. But I’m sure there are

clues in my childhood. I was

brought up in a conservative

Scottish Presbyterian family

with a patriotic military heritage.

I disliked my boarding school

and didn’t do well. At 12 I decided

I was a Maoist, mainly because I

thought sending teachers to work

in the fields was a splendid idea.

My views are now watery

middle of the road, and if they

weren’t I wouldn’t tell you because

I’m BBC. After 40 years of political

journalism I’m interested in

deconstructing what works and

what doesn’t.

I am profoundly introverted but

I’m also a show-off. In the old days

I’d have lunch in a bar in central

London. Now it’s something

from the fridge at home. One of

the reasons I wanted to move to

Primrose Hill was because my

hero Alan Bennett lived here. One

day I found myself behind him in

the post office. He said: “Round

here they’ve got real celebrities,

Andrew. I’m not really a celebrity,

and you’re certainly not.”

After a near-death experience

you realise life is short. I squeeze

the juice out of each day. When I

was diagnosed with kidney cancer

nearly three years ago I felt deeply

irritated, but I was lucky — it was

caught early. The life of a journalist

in London is very stressful and not

very healthy. I spent most of my

adult life drinking too much and

working ridiculously long hours.

You either become a drunk or

you adopt a regime to cope. I’ve

chosen the latter path. At least

three days a week I don’t drink,

and when I do, I don’t get drunk.

I don’t do a lot of feeling —

I’m Scottish. But I write a diary

every day. Not deep thoughts and

there’s no interesting gossip. I’m

a compulsive painter and sketcher,

I draw how the day felt. I used to

paint pastiche Hockney landscapes,

but post-stroke I can’t carry the

easel. So I got a studio five minutes

away, which stops me going

bonkers. It’s my therapy, my man

cave, my desert island. I paint

non-representationally using oils

on wood and canvas, and I don’t

think about anything else. It is the

single greatest pleasure of my day.

I do a lot of walking. When I say

“walk”, it’s more drunken sailor’s

swagger. And unless there’s a

breakthrough in neuroscience it’s

not going to get better. I don’t cook

now, but my daughters do a lot

of Ottolenghi recipes for supper.

By 9.30 I’m in bed with

a book and I’ll read

until my eyes close n

Interview by Caroline Scott

Elizabethans: How Modern Britain

Was Forged by Andrew Marr is out

now (William Collins £20)