Kathy Lette, with a smirk and a shimmy, has been living what she calls her “second act” for the past few years. This is her vivacious declaration of independence, not merely a euphemism for life after marriage or menopause. Kathy’s current love story is delightfully unscripted, as she lives with Irish guitarist Brian O’Doherty, a man several years her junior who brings her coffee in bed and doesn’t mind being the target of her jokes.
Their relationship, which began when she heard him play guitar at a party, has developed through endearingly ordinary yet sometimes dramatic moments. Kathy recently talked about how Brian makes her scrambled eggs and sings to her on Saturday mornings. This is a romantic image that also suggests how intimacy is redefined as one ages. In contrast to the conventional tropes of older women being marginalized in stories about passion, Lette is crafting a brand-new one that is remarkably authentic, unabashedly humorous, and delectably seasoned.
Kathy Lette – Bio, Career, and Relationship Details
| Attribute | Detail |
|---|---|
| Full Name | Kathryn Marie Lette |
| Date of Birth | 11 November 1958 |
| Age | 66 years |
| Nationality | Australian and British |
| Birthplace | Sydney, Australia |
| Profession | Author, columnist, TV personality, playwright |
| Notable Works | Puberty Blues, How to Kill Your Husband, HRT: Husband Replacement Therapy |
| Ex-Spouses | Kim Williams (1983–1989), Geoffrey Robertson (1990–2017) |
| Children | Julius and Georgina Robertson |
| Current Partner | Brian O’Doherty (Irish guitarist and composer) |
Interviews revealing her daily routine reveal an emotionally and intellectually rich lifestyle. She chats with her autistic son Julius, an actor, and FaceTimes her mother, a 92-year-old crossword puzzle enthusiast, as well as her daughter Georgina, a political strategist. While her weekends sparkle with gallery walks, cocktails at the Savoy, and late-night kitchen parties where Brian frequently serves as both host and chef, these intergenerational relationships keep her grounded.
Kathy has created a relationship model that feels especially novel by embracing spontaneity and refusing to follow anyone’s schedule. She tells a memorable story about how she was stuck in row 19 on a flight when Brian upgraded himself to extra legroom. The incident was about more than just airline etiquette, as she explains in her characteristically humorous and self-aware prose. It came to symbolize the need for reevaluated expectations and boundaries in relationships, particularly those that occur later in life.
Kathy’s storytelling is exceptional because it strikes a balance between social criticism and hilarious jokes. She has drawn attention to the expanding intersection of women’s autonomy, romance, and aging through her novels and columns. Rather than viewing menopause as a closing chapter, she describes it as a threshold to creative liberation—an era that, once hormonal chaos is behind you, can feel shockingly expansive.
Kathy has established herself as a cultural icon for older women redefining their romantic and social identities by focusing her feminist commentary on her personal life. She writes with purpose and accuracy, encapsulating her experiences in humorous and thought-provoking puns. Her frequent claim that her boyfriend doesn’t believe “mutual orgasm is an insurance company” is not only amusing, but it also highlights the frequently infantilizing disregard for older female sexuality.
A larger context of celebrity reinvention also informs Kathy and Brian’s relationship. Women in their sixties and seventies, such as Emma Thompson, Judi Dench, and Andie MacDowell, have not let their joy or their aspirations diminish. Neither Kathy nor they are asking for permission to live a vibrant life anymore. This same philosophy—vulnerability, humor, and honesty—served with a dash of prosecco and a double entendre is what her friendship circle, which includes people like Ruby Wax and Anneka Rice, thrives on.
Another important component is the couple’s mutual appreciation of the arts. Their relationship is fueled by novelty and laughter, whether they are exploring exhibitions at the Tate or going on abseiling adventures in Victoria’s untamed escarpments. Kathy once told how she was terrified that her boyfriend might be attempting to kill her while she was strapped into a zip-line harness. She yelled in midair, her fear mingling with comedic timing, “Call this fun?” Yet when she landed safely, she couldn’t help but be awed by the view—and by the man who’d dared her to leap.
That’s perhaps what makes their connection so compelling. It is based on possibility rather than predictability. There’s an underlying rhythm between them, a choreography of chaos that somehow works, even when he’s off making paella and she forgets who’s coming for dinner. Poems and politics flow as freely as the red wine in their West Hampstead home, which has turned into an unofficial embassy for visiting Australians.
In the end, Kathy Lette and Brian O’Doherty’s relationship shows a cultural shift away from the ageist notion that passion, love, and purpose fade with age. Rather, she provides a model that is remarkably similar to Gloria Steinem’s well-known remark, “This is what 66 looks like if you’re healthy and lucky and live long enough.” In Kathy’s case, add a healthy appetite for mischief and a suitcase full of wisecracks.
Her impact extends beyond romantic comedy. She is encouraging a generation of women to embrace their later years with joy rather than resignation by her daring interpretations of The Sunday Times, The Guardian, and live performances. Younger readers will especially benefit from it, as it provides a model for what happiness and rebirth might look like after Act I’s credits have rolled.
According to Kathy, she is already planning Brian’s next solo adventure, which will involve a rope-free bungee jump. It’s a joke, of course. It is, however, emotionally grounded, much like the majority of her humor. According to her, love isn’t about meeting someone who makes you whole. When the soup spills, the zip line breaks, or you end up in the wrong seat and can only write about it later, it’s about sharing a laugh.
