How Not to Be a Political Wife

‘You think you’ve married a journalist, then, horrors, he becomes a politician.’ ‘Sarah Vine is the Bridget Jones of politics.’ Plum Sykes ‘Everyone in Westminster is talking about it.’ The London Standard ‘I take it all back; she’s fabulous. Nobody in Westminster can afford not to buy this book.’ Rachel Johnson ‘Moving and heartfelt – what a journey. I’m amazed she’s still standing.’ Imogen Edwards-Jones How Not to Be a Political Wife is an unflinching account of life at the heart of politics, and what it’s like to have politics rip the heart out of your life. It’s a story of high hopes and dirty tricks, broken friendships and divided loyalties, laughter and glamour. Recollections, as a great woman once said, may of course vary, but this is my story, the way I remember it, written with no fear, no favour – and no fucks left to give. Buckle up. I thought long and hard about writing this memoir. I’ve done so not to settle old scores or plead my case, but more because I hope it’s a tale worth telling, not just for those who are interested in the political events of the past few years, but also because it’s about the people and characters behind those events, and why things ended up the way they did. For nearly 20 years I was inside the rooms of government, a sanctioned eavesdropper on the rise – and fall – of the Cameroon style of Conservatism. At the same time I was building a career in journalism, raising two children and doing my best to support my own husband, Michael Gove, on his political journey. I was both an insider and an outsider; an observer – via my journalism – as well as a participant in the cut and thrust (mainly cut, if I’m honest) of frontline politics. After my divorce from Michael and the demise of the Conservatives’ Old Guard, that all came to an end. I’m no longer officially a Westminster WAG, but you won’t find me mourning. Politics trampled my health, my happiness, my marriage, my sanity; it placed intolerable pressure on my loved ones, especially my children; it twisted my sense of self, and others’ sense of me; it tainted everything I did or said. I can’t say I miss it. I do, however, miss the life and the relationships I had before it all. These are the recollections of a survivor, but they are also a love letter to all that was lost in the wreck.