Miriam Margolyes is ensconced in the garden room of a fancy Edinburgh hotel, framed by tasteful greenery and smiling for a fan who wants a selfie. Apple-cheeked and foul-mouthed, she is gracious with the passing stranger, though she warns me later: “If somebody pisses me off, I’ll say: ‘Now listen to me, I’m 84!’” She pauses. “But I don’t see why they should!” she adds with a laugh.
Margolyes is returning to Edinburgh for the second year running with an upgraded version of her acclaimed showcase based on the characters of Charles Dickens, her favourite author. “Same old cunt, even older,” reads the flyer. “It could be the last time, but don’t bank on it!”
