On the mantelpiece in Ruth Wilson’s south London flat, alongside an empty bottle of champagne and a black-and-white photograph of her brother in British Army uniform, there is an arrangement of model figures, miniature ones. They appear to be a press scrum, some holding out microphones, others taking photographs, and they are forming a semicircle around an empty space. As if the subject of their attention has simply vanished.
I mean to ask her about them, but she has disappeared herself. That seems to be her way. Not vague exactly − she is known for the intelligence of her theatrical performances − but a little distracted. She talks quickly and describes herself as a bit messy.
“It’s how you prioritise in life. Cleaning isn’t all that interesting to me. I’m disorganised. I do things on a whim.”
You can read the whole interview at http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/8375864/Ruth-Wilson-a-dame-in-waiting.html
