Fiona Mitchell Jess O Sullivan talks to the popular RTÉ correspondent about her tenure in London and what comes next
After four years of reporting from London, RTÉ correspondent Fiona Mitchell is ready for a well-earned break. She talks to Jess O Sullivan about what it was like at the coalface of Brexit, from tragedy to laughter and even a wedding.
When Fiona Mitchell breezes into the RTÉ Guide o ce for our interview, my rst thought is, “Is that Fiona Mitchell?” e emeritus London correspondent for RTÉ looks di erent, wearing a crisp blue and white pinstripe shirt, white pants and heels. I’m used to seeing her wrapped up in a sensible coat in unforgivable weather outside Westminster, but today she looks like she could be o on holidays to the Hamptons. Clearly, having time for rest and relaxation since she nished her four-year posting in London is suiting her well and I tell her as much. “ is is what I normally look like,” she says laughing. “For once I’m not going to be sliding around in muck outside Westminster. Finally, I can wear heels. And trust me, these white trousers have never seen a working day.”
Fiona admits that yes, it has been a gruelling assignment, listing out some of the biggest stories she has covered in that time: two general elections, a Brexit referendum, three major terrorist attacks, the controversial Skripal poisoning, the devastating Grenfell Tower re in which 72 people lost their lives, and the murder of Labour MP Jo Cox. “It’s just been one major story a er another. When those things happen, one a er another, plans go on hold. ere have been lots of theatre tickets purchased and not attended and dinners with friends that had to be cancelled. For me, the next few months will be a lot of catching up with that element of my life and balancing things a little bit more.” Having friends and family who understand has been a huge support to Fiona, but she says it is her husband in particular who has been her rock and her biggest ally. “I’m very lucky in so far as my partner is a journalist, and was a foreign correspondent too, and that is a huge part of it. He understands and he’s excited for me.”
Her husband is BBC journalist Alan Johnston who was kidnapped by the Army of Islam in 2007 while posted in Gaza and released a er four months. e two met when Alan came over to RTÉ to do an interview and they have been together for the last ten years. Today he is based in London and works with the BBC World service as an editor on the Middle East. “I think it was random chance that we ended up going out together, but it has worked out very well in terms of this job. When I got the London job he knew he was going to be based in London and that was how it was going to work.” Supporting each other emotionally and professionally seems to be the bedrock of Fiona and Alan’s relationship. When he was based in Rome for three years, Fiona took a year o and spent it in Rome. However, you could joke that Fiona will nd breaking news wherever she goes as that was the year that Pope Benedict resigned, so naturally she couldn’t turn down the opportunity to feed the story home, something which actually triggered a hunger in her to get out from behind the editorial scenes in the
newsroom and put herself at the coalface of the biggest stories. She admits she probably didn’t have a sense of how busy it was going to be. “Nobody could have predicted it. I went to London in 2015, six months before the election where the Tories won an overall majority. en the following year was the Brexit referendum. It has just been non-stop ever since. I was better o not knowing because your initial reaction would be, ‘I’m not going to be able to deal with this.’ Whereas when it’s just happening, the adrenalin kicks in.”
At just 31 years old, Fiona was diagnosed with breast cancer. is was only two years a er her sister, Frances, was also diagnosed with the disease. is she says was a huge factor in her going for the job in the rst place. “Taking yourself out of your comfort zone is so hard and so scary. But when you’ve had a cancer diagnosis you know that a job interview is not the scariest thing you can face. It’s not even close.” ough not a Londoner, some stories have hit close to home for Fiona, who hails from Tullamore, Co. O aly. None more so than the Grenfell Tower re. Her apartment is located only three streets away from where the shell of the building now stands. “For me that was probably the toughest thing in the four and a half years. With Grenfell it is the senselessness of it. How did this happen in the wealthiest borough in London, which is one of the wealthiest cities in the world? It is the huge e ect that has on a community.” She says that on the 14th of every month, people still gather at the site to hold a candlelight vigil and, if anything, the crowd is increasing with time as people still grapple to process the events of that night. “ e re ghters who responded that night come when they nish their shi and form a guard of honour for the families. ey take their helmets o and put them on the ground as a sign of respect. You can hear a pin drop and London is not a quiet city.”
ere have been other events in the last four years which have driven home the importance of living in the now for Fiona. e one that had the greatest impact on her was losing her beloved parents, Paddy and Phyllis, within two years of each other. ough herself and Alan had talked about getting married, they never found the time to make it happen. Now things felt di erent. “I think it changes your perspective a little bit about where you stand in terms of your family relationships. ere was an element that sometimes you keep waiting to see how certain things work out, where we’ll each be living or working, you’re waiting for pieces to fall into place. en you just decide that you have to work with the pieces as they are. When my mum died very suddenly we thought, ‘Let’s just do this.’ We didn’t really have a huge plan.”
Alan proposed to Fiona last year and because Alan is a little shy about the ner details, I am sworn to secrecy except to say that it was in Paris, it was romantic and that even a er a decade together he can still pull o a wonderful surprise. ey had a small wedding last year with just 12 guests in Alan’s parents’ hometown in Scotland. When talking about the wedding, Fiona’s smile takes on a dreamily contented appearance. “It was in a tree house overlooking the lake and village where his mum and dad live. It’s a really beautiful part of Scotland and the sun shone.” Maybe all the important pieces the couple were waiting for were already in place all along. “Yes, someone that I love, and that my parents loved and they knew well. Really, everything else is irrelevant to that.” For now Fiona’s only plan is to take some time o to enjoy London, interspersed with visits to her family. She has a sister who lives in Dundalk with her children and a brother who lives with his family in the US, and extended family in Philadelphia. And they all want a piece of Fiona now that she isn’t on the hamster wheel of breaking news. e one thing she will miss though is the comraderie she shared with the other press who also found themselves camped outside Westminister come rain, hail or shine. “A lot of the time it’s long hours and pretty intense and everybody will help you out if they can. It gives it a collegiality that is nice because you’re operating essentially on your own.”
Like any serious role in life, there are moments of humour too and Fiona is adamant that there has to be to get through it. She recalls becoming famous among her fellow journalists for a while because the protestors really liked her and she was the only one who could get them to stop using the loudspeakers when they were all reporting live. “I remember one of the international broadcasters ran over to me before he went on air, nudged me and asked me to go over to the guys with the loudspeakers and ‘do that Irish thing’. For a while I felt like I became the protester whisperer. But to be honest, when you can greet them by name, you know that you’ve spent too much time there.” Well, it will be their loss Fiona. F Fáilte ar ais!
Taking yourself out of your comfort zone is so hard and so scary