June Watson: ‘In the 1970s at the National you couldn’t rehearse after lunch because everybody had had too much to drink!’

Born in Edinburgh in 1935, June Watson’s career on stage, television and film spans 67 years. Although she is familiar from series such as Casualty , All Creatures Great and Small and Agatha Raisin , theatre is her great love and for the past decade she has produced a string of unforgettable performances, most notably as Mammy in Michael Grandage’s production of The Cripple of Inishmaan (for which she won the Clarence Derwent Award), as the mysterious Genevieve in Annie Baker’s John , directed by James Macdonald, and most recently as the old servant Firs in The Cherry Orchard at the Donmar Warehouse. She has been married to the actor and director Christopher Dunham since 1962. Next month, she stars opposite Mark Strong and Lesley Manville in Robert Icke’s new modern-day Oedipus .

What part are you playing in Oedipus?
His mother, Merope. She’s only talked of in Sophocles’s play, but Robert [Icke] has decided to make her into a character who actually appears. He has his reason! It’s not an adaptation of the original. It’s his version of the Oedipus story, really powerful. And a terrific cast. I’m absolutely loving it.

You’re having this great late flowering of your career, where you’re working with all the top directors.
I know! I’m a very lucky lady. I’ve done about 25 productions at the National, and lots with the Royal Court. I had a wonderful time as a founder member of the English Shakespeare Company, travelling the world. But suddenly in 2016, I did Caryl Churchill’s Escaped Alone at the Royal Court directed by James Macdonald. And that kind of launched me anew a bit. If you’re looking for an old lady in a play, it tends to be me.

Why do you think that is?
I suppose it’s because I can still learn the lines. I think people of my age either can’t learn or think they can’t and panic. I can’t see very well. I have macular degeneration like the great Judi Dench, but as my sight was slowly going, my concentration got better. Of course, my husband has to help me to learn. I can’t see the script in print, so I have to learn it before rehearsals start.

Dame Judi has given up stage acting because of her sight. Do you need any special concessions?
If I have to go up and down stairs, I need little kind of neon light things, just so that I know where the first step is, but if it’s flat, there’s nothing complicated, I can see. My peripheral vision is still not too bad. I can get around and I just make myself do it. I don’t give up.

It’s lovely just to come on for four or five scenes and do your bit, go off and have a cup of tea

How did you get into acting in the first place?
It was my mother’s fault. She was a working-class girl who wanted her children to have a hobby and so we all had to go to piano lessons. Eventually the teacher said: “Mrs. Watson, you’re wasting my time, and your money, because June has no aptitude for the piano.” Then, she discovered an advert for drama classes and she said would I like to do that? And I said no. I just wanted to go out with boys. Anyway, she persuaded me to go, and I was absolutely hooked. I was about 12 years old. Eventually, I plucked up courage and asked my dad, who was a fishmonger, if I could go to drama school. He said yes, as long as I didn’t leave home. It had to be in Edinburgh. That’s how I started.

What was the point where you felt you had arrived?
Peter Gill was the first director really to take an interest in me. [In 1976], he wrote a play called Small Change and there were two wonderful parts for women, played by me and Marjorie Yates. Everybody wanted to work at the Royal Court, and that set me on a London career. But I’ve always been a supporting artist. When I was a young actress starting out in rep, I played the “character” parts – I was everybody’s mother or auntie or granny even. I’m never above the title.

Is there an advantage to that?
There’s a huge pressure on people who have to carry plays. I don’t have that. It’s lovely just to come on for four or five scenes and do your bit, go off and have a cup of tea. Maybe I would’ve liked to do a bit more – I’d have liked to have played Lady Macbeth – but I’ve had a very good career.

You were part of the famous Bill Bryden company at the National in the 1970s when it performed Lark Rise to Candleford and The Passion . What was that like?
It was a real ensemble, and we were the first to do promenade productions, when the audience were about an inch away from you. We had music and dancing, and it was so exciting. But it was mainly men. There were only three women in the company, and you just had to join in. The backstage bar was always open in those days at lunchtime – you couldn’t rehearse in the afternoon because everybody had had too much to drink!

It was another world, then?
It was completely different. When I went into theatre, we rehearsed a play during the day, did another one at night, and then went home and learned our lines. And when young people say to me: “I’m absolutely exhausted,” I think: “They don’t know the meaning of the word!”

One change is that women more regularly play parts written for men. You’ve played Old Adam and Corin in As You Like It and the servant Firs in The Cherry Orchard . How do you feel about that?
I hadn’t done very much for a while when I was offered As You Like It , and I just thought: “Oh, well, have a go.” But when it came to Firs, I wasn’t quite sure that Firs could be a woman. But everybody kept telling me it was a wonderful part, and don’t be silly and do it. So eventually I did, and I’m very glad. I think it’s up to the individual actor to decide if that’s what they want to do. I’d hate to play King Lear, but then that’s just me. It depends very much on you, really.

Your marriage has also had great longevity – how have you pulled that off?
We didn’t cling to each other. He never stopped me from doing anything I wanted to do. He always was very happy for me to do everything and the same for me with him. We weren’t always round each other’s necks. And we make each other laugh a lot.

What are the qualities that make a professional actor?
Truth. You have to be very, very, very truthful, otherwise don’t bother. When I go to the theatre, I can’t bear flashy stuff that’s not anything to do with the play. It is just wonderful to see real honesty on the stage.

• Oedipus is at Wyndham’s theatre, London WC2, from 4 October to 4 January