Sheila

lovely piece on the gorgeous Sheila Hancock in The Guardian.

You’re about to star in a musical production of Grey Gardens (a 1975 US documentary about the reclusive lives of Edith Ewing Beale - Jackie Kennedy’s aunt – and her daughter, Edith Bouvier Beale, who lived in a house called Grey Gardens). Are you looking forward to it?
Very much so, although it’s rather unnerving. We only had three-and-a-half weeks’ rehearsal, which is a terrifyingly short time for a musical. But it’s in amazingly good shape, I must say. All the youngsters are really on top of it. I’m an old lady, so it’s slightly harder for me to learn.
Is it good being back in fringe theatre?
[Laughs] It’s a nightmare, but fun. We all share a dressing room – men, women, kids, everyone. There’s just a rail of clothes separating the girls from the boys. At my age, darling, standing around in my knickers and bra, chatting to a load of lads across some coat hangers… 
Are you a fan of the Grey Gardens documentary?
I was given the DVD, and there was something about it I was drawn to. These two women are gutsy originals. They were part of the political elite and American aristocracy, where women were used to make marriages and allegiances. The Beales just didn’t fit that mould, and became outcasts.
Does the mother/daughter relationship resonate with you?
Absolutely; it’s amazing on that score: the terrible fights, the profound love, the co-dependence. One fight scene reminds me so much of the screaming rows when my daughters were teenagers.
The Beales ended up living in squalor. Do you find that tragic?
They’re tragic from the outside, but it’s in the eye of the beholder. It’s like my experience of watching death – you feel awful seeing it, but the person is getting on with dying, so they don’t care how you feel. I reckon the Beales were happier than they would have been smiling benignly behind some dreadful US president, pretending to support him.
Is the squalor strangely appealing?
Squalor doesn’t worry me [laughs]. I am a bit of a slob. But I do a lot of work with people who are having a bad time and I see how easy it is to descend – for your life to run out of control, both domestically and mentally. It’s like Quentin Crisp said: “After the first four years, dirt doesn’t get any worse.” Same with the Beales: bins filled up, so they started throwing cans into a pile in the corner, which became part of the furniture. Then the rats and raccoons came in, but they were such animal lovers, they adored it. I totally understand that – I’m a cat lover, and if I went a bit odd, I’d be surrounded by pussycats.
You did a lot of work with Kids Company. How do you feel about it being wound up?
Very sad. I’m still in touch with the girl I mentor through it, and she’s fine, but it was a terrible blow when it closed. It became a witch-hunt and the way Camila [Batmanghelidjh] was treated was disgraceful. The scope of their work wasn’t appreciated. She gave her life to kids and could have been handled with more love.
You did a memorable turn in EastEnders as the manipulative mother of gangster Steve Owen (Martin Kemp). How was that experience?
I was thrilled to be asked. And bless their hearts, they let me rehearse, because the EastEnders cast don’t usually get any rehearsal time at all. It’s amazing how they pull the stops out – characters suddenly step into the limelight and shine. I admire people who work in soaps, and get pissed off if anybody’s snide about them. Some of our best acting, lighting and filming can be found in soaps. What they turn out, quickly and under pressure, takes my breath away.
You’ve just filmed an episode of Casualty?
Yes, for the 30th anniversary. I play a lesbian – who dies, of course. Dying or going senile, that’s my role nowadays. Maggie Smith talks about always playing buttoned-up boots. She’s bloody lucky.
Would you like to do something like Downton?
Of course. But it would be even better to be a real-life dowager.
By one of your grandchildren marrying into royalty?
That’s right. I’ve got high hopes for the youngest, Rosie. I’ve got my eye on those princes for her. Trouble is, my grandchildren’s table manners are so appalling. I keep saying they’ll never marry a prince unless they learn to eat properly. The plan is to get Rosie-Posey trained up for marriage, then I’ll live in a dowager cottage in the grounds. She’s a bit wayward for a princess, but I might be able to tame her and make her hair all shiny!
Your daughter Abigail Thaw is an actor, currently appearing in Endeavour, the prequel to Inspector Morse. What advice do you give her?
She’s far more likely to give me advice. When you’re old, you’re meant to be wise, but honestly, I’m not.
Though your book, The Two of Us, about you and your late husband John Thaw, struck a chord with readers…
That’s true. It had an effect I didn’t expect. It’s used in bereavement counselling, and I have files full of letters from people saying it’s helped them. I put it down to the fact that it’s honest about how ghastly it is when somebody’s ill and dying. I used my diary for those bits because I wanted it to be raw, rather than written beautifully. People think, “Oh good, it’s not just me who feels like that.”
Is more writing in the pipeline?
I might tackle another novel, and I’ve got an idea for a children’s book. There’s all sorts I want to do, but time’s running short. At my age, it’s not a matter of slowing down, it’s about speeding up. I’m doing more now than I’ve ever done. I’m greedy for new experiences.
I heard that you think being called a national treasure is “bullshit”.
Well, it is. What it amounts to is that you can still stagger across the stage, put one foot in front of the other, and that seems to surprise people. I know people who get called national treasures who are vile.
You spoke out recently about insurers discriminating against older drivers…
I had this £1,400 increase in my premium. Insurance companies in this country pluck statistics out of mid-air and it’s total bullshit. In 60 years of driving, I’ve only ever had six points on my licence. I love cars with a passion. I’ve had MGs, Jaguars and now I’ve got a souped-up Mini Cooper. I love being in my car with Radio 3 on. They’ve never asked me to go on Top Gear, though, sadly.
You danced in the Strictly Christmas special three years ago. Fancy a full series?
I wouldn’t have the energy, but that one time was so special. I’d never learned to ballroom dance, because I was always working during the evenings in its heyday. When I turned up to meet my Strictly pro partner, Ian Waite, and said I’d never done a foxtrot in my life, he nearly had a fit. What I would love to do is more telly comedy. I did a tiny bit in Toast of London and was in one episode of Catherine Tate’s Nan. I was crying with laughter.
What did you do on New Year’s Eve?
I popped into a party for a quick drink, but I didn’t do the whole midnight thing. I always find it a bit embarrassing when people sing Auld Lang Syne. Nobody knows when it finishes, so it goes on and on. John and I always used to take a bottle of champagne up to bed.
Any new year’s resolutions?
I don’t bother with that any more, darling. I’ve given up giving things up. I want to take on more.