‘My initial thought? Seriously uncool’
Bruce Robinson – who is widely recognized as the screenwriter and director of Withnail and I – encountered artist Sophie Windham at an Italian eatery in London in 1982. He proposed three days later. They have been united in marriage for 42 years and continue to live and collaborate in the Welsh borders. Together, they raised two adult children, Lily and Willoughby.
Sophie
Bruce has been intensely writing ever since we first met – and anyone without a creative edge might have found that challenging to endure. Our honeymoon was cut short after just three days due to a script deadline, and even now, he often works until 10pm. As a painter, I resonate with that. He doesn’t mind if I disappear into my studio for the whole day.
During our children’s early years, I played the role of “mum taking care of the kids” while managing to illustrate books in my spare time, placing Bruce’s work at the forefront. He churned out scripts, which was fortunate because my earnings weren’t enough to sustain a family. With our children now independent, we’ve found a better balance; we devote equal hours to our work. Occasionally, that leads to us being apart all day, only to reconnect at dinner. Bruce appreciates good meals, but if I’m absent, he skips eating. I suspect it’s due to all those years of indulging in red wine and chain-smoking. When you drink excessively, food often takes a backseat. Although Bruce isn’t drinking now and quit smoking years ago, he still rarely thinks about food. At lunch, he might munch on a pickled onion or ice cream, while I prepare dinner for us both each evening.
My first impression of Bruce was that he seemed painfully uncool. It was the post-punk era, and all my friends sported wild hairstyles, while Bruce showed up in a low-cut shirt paired with dubious cowboy boots. For 40 minutes, he rambled on about his disdain for Margaret Thatcher, and his tirade was somewhat off-putting. He still rants about Thatcher during meals, but at least I was forewarned. I do my best to steer clear of political discussions. When I see him pick up the Guardian, it’s my cue to exit.
Despite everything, my love for Bruce has remained steadfast, because at his essence, he is incredibly kind, empathetic, and amusing. Friends have expressed, “I’m no longer in love with my husband,” but I can’t relate. For years, I was truly captivated by Bruce, and I believe he felt the same for me. Things feel a bit different now that we’ve spent so much time together; it has evolved into a profound love, rather than infatuation.
Bruce
Sophie rarely bothers or disturbs me, though I know she might not feel the same. I only feel a tad exasperated when she downplays what I consider a significant political revelation. She claims it’s because she’s heard all my insights before, but that’s not the case since I frequently come up with new ones.
We have our little quarrels, yet I genuinely think we still enjoy each other’s presence, even after so many years. Living in the countryside, we are fortunate to have ample space, allowing us to retreat when necessary. Our ability to escape might be key to our marriage’s success. We don’t impose too many demands on each other. I am among the few in England without a mobile phone, and we hardly ever watch television. I can’t stand it. Sometimes we simply read our books in the evenings, though Sophie prefers novels, which I’m not keen on. I tend to read textbooks.
We’ve collaborated on children’s books, but I believe one reason we mesh so well is because our work differs greatly. There’s been no competitiveness – had she been a writer as well, we might have spent our days arguing over commas. Sophie can chat on the phone while painting in her studio. I, however, can’t even concentrate with distant voices nearby.
I confess I have mixed feelings about our shared fondness for red wine. I like to write with it because it drowns out the voice that says, “You cannot write that. You can’t.” I used to have a glass even before brushing my teeth in the morning to get into the writing mood. Not the best memories. But the fact that we’re still together and still love one another suggests we must have done something right?
Sophie Windham’s upcoming exhibition is set for The Table in Hay-on-Wye, 4-17 May 2026. Bruce Robinson is directing the stage adaptation of Withnail and I, set to debut in London this spring.
‘I frequently reflect, look at this woman thrive!’
Author Roxane Gay’s initial interaction with designer and podcaster Debbie Millman started through a series of emails about Millman’s work that Gay chose not to reply to. They united in marriage during the pandemic and now share their time between Los Angeles and New York.
Roxane
Around eight years ago, Debbie sent me an eloquent email saying my book Hunger resonated with her. She mentioned it felt like I was narrating her own body’s story. I remember feeling intrigued by her. Yet, I hadn’t met Debbie at that stage. She was merely a stranger reaching out to my work email address. Additionally, I was in a relationship then, so I didn’t reply. Fortunately, Debbie was persistent and didn’t take my silence personally. Over the next two years, she continued to drop me emails occasionally about my writings and speeches. Eventually, a mutual acquaintance spoke highly of her, and by then my relationship status had shifted, so I thought: why not? Debbie sent me a very formal note expressing her desire to “take me out on an actual date” which I found charming given the precise phrasing. I was 43, and nobody had ever asked me out so formally before. Debbie wanted to go all out. Dinner! An actual date! She articulated her romantic intentions clearly, which I valued.
Upon our first meeting, Debbie was gearing up for a month-long around-the-world trip, and I found it incredibly attractive that she didn’t change her plans in any way for me. Today, travel is a significant aspect of our life together – even though I used to be the type who wondered: why travel when we can just watch TV? Debbie and I handle travel well together since I’m the organizer. She brings the ideas, and I bring them to life. She might suggest: let’s explore the top of the world. And I think: let’s skip that, but sure. Then I manage all the details.
That said, if there are any issues with our accommodation or flight, it’s Debbie who confronts the situation. People often look at me to blame, but Debbie does not tolerate any nonsense. I admire that about her. I refer to her as my little enforcer. Debbie embodies the classic Scorpio: intense and determined. When we first began dating, we were strolling down the street in Manhattan, and a guy bumped into her in what seemed intentional. She seized him, shoved him back, and asserted, “Watch where you’re going.” It was quite remarkable. Throughout my life, I’ve tended to minimize my presence, thinking, “Don’t take up too much space,” but Debbie is entirely the opposite.
To be fair, I steer the planning because I’m far choosier about our accommodations. Debbie would be fine in a bug-filled yurt. However, my family hails from Haiti, and I’ve experienced more than enough discomfort in one lifetime. We embarked on a trip to Mongolia together, where the choice was to sleep under the stars in the Gobi desert with no plumbing or in some luxury in Ulaanbaatar. Guess which option I went for? I prefer sharing experiences with Debbie; however, I also don’t want to hinder her from pursuing adventures she desires that don’t interest me. We’ve both matured enough to respect each other’s preferences.
There’s no disparity in our careers since we are both at the pinnacle of our respective fields. We just established a joint bank account, yet we retain our individual income streams, so financial arguments are rare. While imbalances can still work, being equals certainly simplifies matters. I’m not merely referencing finances; intelligence also counts. In everyday life, I often gaze at Debbie and think, look at this woman thrive!
Perhaps the success of our relationship stems from meeting at a more mature age. Thirty years ago, I wouldn’t have been prepared. I was still navigating deep trauma recovery, whereas now I can communicate more freely. Debbie is very emotionally expressive, while I tend to keep my feelings contained. I know she dislikes when I retreat into myself, but she persists in asking, driven by her profound love. Although Debbie might not see herself this way, she is incredibly passionate. Being loved by her is all-encompassing and complete, which can occasionally feel overwhelming because I think: it’s just me. How can you love me this much?
Debbie
Persistence is certainly one of my defining traits, though not when it comes to romance. However, with Roxane, everything felt uniquely different. From the start, I felt so synced with her that I never felt the need to act from a place of insecurity or play games. With Roxane, I felt at peace for the first time.
I have been married twice prior. The third time really is the charm. My previous spouses were men, and unsurprisingly, those marriages didn’t endure. I always suspected I was gay, but my upbringing was quite difficult, making the idea of being any more “different” than I already felt overwhelmingly daunting. After two failed marriages, I didn’t envision marrying again – yet I also recognized my love for Roxane, my soulmate and lifelong partner. She had always wished for her father to accompany her down the aisle – and to bring her happiness, I’d do anything. Now, marriage feels different. I cherish being married to her.
My relationship with my family is complicated, so I feel fortunate to have been warmly embraced by Roxane’s parents. We love traveling as a family. Last year, we lost Roxane’s mother, which was challenging. We are hoping her father will come to live with us. We have a guesthouse adjacent to our home that would be ideal, although he understandably wishes to maintain his independence. Despite that, we devote a lot of time to him. We also have our cats and dog requiring our care. The pets pretty much run the household. Roxane and I are merely tenants.
We try to remain mindful when one of us enters a state of profound loss. I’m prone to tears. Roxane says I’m good at articulating exactly what I need during such moments. Sometimes I say, “I don’t need you to fix this.” So, she simply listens. Chris Rock has a stand-up routine discussing how his girlfriend comes home from work, starts sharing about her day, yet doesn’t actually seek feedback; she merely wants him to listen to her venting about a friend, colleague, or boss. Hence, Chris enters what he calls “That bitch be crazy” mode. Likewise, Roxane sometimes asks, “Do you want feedback, or do you want ‘That bitch be crazy’?” If it’s the latter, she’ll just nod, listen, and respond with, “Oh my God!” or “How dare she?!” Roxane hesitates to share her own emotions, but I often say, “I know there’s something upsetting you. So unless you want me to keep asking, you must tell me.” She knows I won’t relent.
Roxane and I are quite different; however, we also share countless similarities. For example, our mutual love for live theatre. We also enjoy attending art and music events together. We both stay up late, which is convenient. I typically go to bed slightly earlier than Roxane, but she stays beside me in bed solving puzzles online.
In my youth, I used to dream about the type of person out there destined for me. I envisioned someone amused by me – and that’s Roxane! She genuinely finds me amusing. We share laughter constantly, even over the silly little songs I create. She helps me embrace my identity since she seems to delight in who I inherently am.
Roxane Gay edited The Portable Feminist Reader (currently available, Penguin Random House). Debbie Millman hosts the podcast Design Matters. Her book Love Letter to a Garden (Hachette) is now available.
‘We employ a traffic light system to communicate our tension levels’
Laura and Jon McClure – recognized as the keyboardist and frontman of Reverend and the Makers – fell in love while forming their band in the noughties, and spent their early years together partying until dawn and touring around the world. Two decades, two children, and innumerable gigs later, their lives follow a different rhythm.
Laura
When I became pregnant, eight years into our relationship, it was a shocking transition. Then I fell pregnant again, and being a touring musician turned into an even more chaotic logistical affair. I would find myself backstage, my breasts filling up, desperately seeking a quiet corner to pump.
None of this would function daily without a solid family support network. Jon hails from a working-class background in Sheffield, where numerous aunties and cousins typically step in to assist with childcare. My parents also contribute significantly. It’s essential for Jon and me to have some child-free time together – but it’s equally vital for us to occasionally enjoy some time apart. I perform funny songs with another band as a side gig, and Jon is always encouraging about that. I also recently undertook a counseling course, and Jon was immensely supportive. He stated, “Don’t even question it. We will figure out the hours, no matter what.”
Our marriage faced challenges during Covid as we were confined at home together, constantly in each other’s space, with no personal creative outlets. Jon is quite messy. Under typical circumstances, I’d think, what’s the big deal? Jon adores me, and he tells me I’m beautiful every single day, and he praises my parenting skills. But when confined together all day, his dirty clothes strewn about suddenly felt disrespectful. I’d glance at his pants and think: do you not respect me at all!
At one point during Covid, Jon connected with a group of fellow musicians and went to record an album. While that was great for alleviating our financial stress, it left me alone homeschooling the kids. We’d chat on the phone, and Jon would regale me with tales of caviar supplied by the record label for the musicians in the studio, while I sat home eating fish fingers and chips. The resentment flowed both ways; Jon missed the kids and was envious of my close relationship with them while I was enviously longing for the ability to use the bathroom without an audience.
During that tough period, we devised some new communication methods that continue to help us today. We utilize a traffic light system to convey our stress levels. I might tell Jon, “I’m on amber today, babe. I’m feeling a bit edgy, and something could trigger a shift to red.” Or, “I’m on red: be cautious.” Jon has improved at asking, “How can I assist?” Even when I pretend everything is under control and I’m managing perfectly, he has learned to step in and arrange things so I can take a walk or visit my mom for the afternoon.
It’s easy to let a rough patch of a marriage just linger unaddressed. You allow difficult aspects to lie dormant, hoping ignoring them will make them fade away – but they won’t. I tend to be an ostrich, burying my feelings. Jon is genuinely more open. What I appreciate most about him is that he expresses his emotions readily. He has this enthusiasm for life that’s contagious. At times, his exuberance can be exasperating, but I find it endearing.
Jon
The reality of being married for 16 years can be challenging. We’re in a band together, and before our children arrived, we were partners in crime. We could be entirely spontaneous. It would be like: should we go to Vietnam tomorrow? And Laura would instantly reply, yes! Let’s go! Now, there’s an unspoken understanding that when it’s necessary, Laura will stay home with our children while I head out to perform. That creates a strange dynamic where I get to experience the “fun stuff,” but Laura stays back with the kids and receives all the affection. Missing our kids makes me feel jealous. My role as the frontman necessitates going away for gigs and making money. However, I acknowledge there’s an element of sexism present. Even now, when my mom visits and the house is cluttered due to our touring schedules, there’s an unspoken belief that it’s all Laura’s doing.
Covid posed significant challenges for us. We were together constantly, yet it felt like we never had meaningful conversations. Once we put the kids to bed, we were simply too worn out from homeschooling. I’ve always had an angry side. I’m not violent, but argumentative. I would often rage silently, struggling to articulate my actual feelings. During this time, we sought out a therapist who helped me express, “I feel sad” or “I feel jealous.” Sometimes, I think as a partner and parent, you act as a human filter. You observe how couples in your family function and strive to adopt the positive traits while discarding the negative ones. Laura possesses a greater emotional intelligence than I do, yet she has imparted significant lessons to me. She has improved me as a person in that regard.
Before meeting Laura, I didn’t truly believe in marriage. I considered it just a meaningless piece of paper and a waste of money. However, I recall an evening when Laura delivered a speech that shifted my perspective. She argued that we celebrate many meaningless events in life. For instance, aging one more year. So, why not celebrate finding the individual with whom you want to share children and reveal your deepest secrets? What could be a more worthy cause for celebration?
Reverend and the Makers’ eighth studio album, Is This How Happiness Feels?, is set for release on 24 April 2026 through Distiller Records.
‘It’s not about every day being flawless’
Novelists Greg and Kate Mosse first met in school at 16, reconnected on a train in their later 20s, and wed at 40 when their now-adult children, Felix and Martha, were seven and nine. Caring for elderly parents leads to a consistently hectic environment at their home in Chichester.
Kate
Since Greg’s mother moved in with us in 1999, followed by my parents, our home has been filled with numerous occupants. While that might strain some relationships, it hasn’t affected ours since we’ve always known each other’s families. We possess the capacity to love and care for each other’s parents unconditionally alongside our own. Greg cared for my father, who suffered from Parkinson’s, while I look after Greg’s mother, whom I cherish. Caring for them has been a blessing rather than a burden, although it has restricted our freedom more than most in their 60s experience. Impromptu moments are rare, yet we’ve learned to carve out time for just the two of us, even for a simple pub lunch.
Initially, I viewed marriage as a patriarchal trap. However, after people began questioning whether Greg was the father of our children, we chose to marry in a modest manner. It didn’t alter our relationship – having kids was the most pivotal choice we made. We both hadn’t intended to become parents, but we knew we wanted to raise children together.
People often assume Greg took on most of the childcare since he worked fewer hours while I was in the limelight as a novelist, but the responsibilities have always been shared. One of us steps forward as needed while the other takes a step back, and with time, it evens out. We wholeheartedly support one another in our endeavors and take pride in each other’s achievements. Respect is a hallmark of our relationship. We still find joy in sitting together on the sofa, laughing at the same things.
What I admire most about Greg is his integrity. His identity has never relied on his career or others’ opinions of him. It takes considerable strength for men to move past the stereotype of being the sole breadwinner, but Greg’s work is rooted in fulfillment and contentment, which makes his passion for what he does truly admirable.
Since we’re in the same field, we share our manuscripts with one another first and understand what it entails. However, our writing routines differ significantly. I become obsessed while crafting a book and collapse afterward. Greg is systematic. I avoid discussing my work while it’s ongoing, whereas Greg is more relaxed about it.
If you’re fortunate enough to discover someone who fits you perfectly, it’s not about achieving flawless days. As caregivers, we face considerable pressure, yet we don’t project those stresses onto each other. We might not always see eye to eye, but when we have disagreements, they aren’t significant or long-lasting. Sure, it can be bothersome when I want more cushions, but Greg insists we have too many already. Or that regardless of where I place something in the dishwasher, Greg will adjust it. But it boils down to letting those trivial matters slide while maintaining your stance. We avoid amplifying inconsequential issues.
Greg
Kate’s family life was stable and solid, while mine felt chaotic and unmoored. Reuniting with Kate provided me with the long-term stability I had been missing. I adopted her surname in August 1989, prior to our marriage – it was essential to me to bear the same name as her and our children.
Living with our parents and children has presented challenges at times since different generations hold different needs and wants. When our kids reached their teenage years, life for them resembled one endless Glastonbury festival, while the older generation preferred their cereal at the same time every single day. As their health deteriorated, we had to manage daily living around helping with bathing them, dressing wounds, and coordinating caregivers. As a couple, we learned to plan for spontaneous moments.
Emotionally, marriage hasn’t been necessary for me. From the moment we reconnected on that train, I possessed unwavering confidence in our relationship. We stand by one another, and this partnership has always influenced our decisions. When Kate began her writing journey, I pursued teaching, as it was the most practical choice for our family. As she found greater success, I transitioned from full-time teaching and kept my afternoons free to support our home life.
Our preferences diverge in many areas – someone once quipped that all we have in common is each other – yet we don’t argue over minor things nor seek reasons to be annoyed. Even if our home is overflowing with cushions, the dishwasher is packed incorrectly, or the refrigerator is overflowing with food, styled as Kate wishes. Kate possesses an extraordinary capacity for generosity, and I am one of her cherished endeavors. For that, I will always hold gratitude.
