Cressida Bonas, 37, is an actress, writer and podcaster who co-hosts Lessons from Our Mothers with her sister Isabella Branson. She has seven half-siblings, including a sister, Pandora Cooper-Key, who died of cancer in 2024. She married Harry Wentworth-Stanley in 2020, and they have two children, Wilbur, three, and Delphina, who turns one this summer. The family live in London with their sausage dog, Budgie.
I was a very chatty and direct child
My mum always said I was incredibly curious or just very nosy, because I was always asking everyone questions. Even if one of my parents’ friends came over and I’d never met them before, I’d go straight in with direct questions. So I suppose it makes sense that I host a podcast now.
I grew up in the garden
We lived in the country, and my parents loved gardening. They taught me how to plant, and my dad gave me a tiny shovel, spade and wheelbarrow. I was obsessed with that wheelbarrow and insisted on taking it everywhere, even down the high street. I’d love to pass that same love of gardening on to my children.
My siblings mean everything to me
They changed my nappies, bathed me and were my parents’ helping hands. My heart broke when they went away to boarding school, I just wanted to be by their sides all the time. As a teenager I remember borrowing Isabella’s favourite shoes for a party and returning them covered in mud. She was so furious she threw them at my head. Now, as adults, we’re still incredibly close and always turn to one another for advice. And I still steal their clothes.
Game Boys and arguments in the car to Switzerland
Every year my mum would drive all five of us to Switzerland. The car would be packed full and Don McLean would be playing the whole way. I can still picture us taking turns on the Game Boy, heads down playing Tetris. There was always at least one argument. One year I squeezed my sister Georgina’s nose so hard she cried, and she still reminds me of it. Mum would threaten to stop the car and make us walk to the mountains, which usually shut us up.
What my late sister Pandora taught me
Despite being unwell for years, she found joy in the smallest things and was always grateful. Even at her sickest she’d dance by her hospital window. Pandora believed in going after what you want rather than waiting for it to fall into your lap. She used to say, “What’s the worst that can happen?” Her sense of humour was infectious, and she could talk to anyone. Even now I sometimes hear her in my ear pushing me on, reminding me to just get out there and live life fully. I’d like to pass that on to my children.
My mum has lots of funny sayings
We tease my mum a lot, but in a loving way. Once when I was going through a break-up with a boyfriend, I was moping around and she turned to me and she said, “Cressida, you look like a dying duck in a thunderstorm.” That’s so specific. Where did that come from? It makes our whole family laugh.
My parents’ generation was afraid to be vulnerable
I want my children to grow up feeling able to tell us how they’re feeling, without shame or fear. I want us to have open conversations, to sit around the dinner table and really talk. Our generation is fortunate to be more open about struggles, challenges and vulnerability, whereas my parents’ generation often weren’t able to speak about those things so freely.
My dad’s best advice
I was talking to my dad recently about how impatient I get when I’m tired, and how guilty I feel afterwards. He said, “When you feel yourself about to snap, take a deep breath and count to ten.” It sounds so simple, but it really works.
It’s important to acknowledge when you’re wrong as a parent
I want to be able to admit when I’m wrong and say, “I’m sorry.” I think that matters because it teaches children that everyone makes mistakes, and that taking responsibility is part of being human.
My son is full of excitable energy
His birthday is in November, and last summer he asked me when it was. I told him it was in November, the month when it gets cold. About a week later we stepped outside on a chilly day and he looked at me and said, “Mummy, it’s my birthday.” I told him it wasn’t, and he said, “Yes, it is. It’s cold.”
Motherhood is sometimes an invisible role
You don’t get a promotion for being a mum, and you don’t get medals. For so long there’s been this striving for the idea of the perfect mum and it’s not possible. Hearing about other people’s mistakes on our podcast is really comforting, because often we make the same ones. I love being a mum. It’s rewarding but it’s also very challenging. It tests me more than I’ve ever been tested.
Lessons from Our Mothers Live is on at the Phoenix Arts Club, London, on May 20
