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)