Ain't nothing like an old diva

I am quite nervous on the way to the Savoy to see Miss Stritch. Maybe it's the way John Lahr, her collaborator on her new show, Elaine Stritch at Liberty, talks about the atmosphere of "anxiety and anger" that surrounds her.

Maybe it's the intimidating thought of Elaine Stritch as a diva of the put-down, the world-weary take on urban life, love and the whole damn thing, the woman who's been a Broadway Baby, sent up the Ladies who Lunch - and is Still Here.

Or maybe it's simply the Elaine Stritch I hear on the CD of her autobiographical show, a woman whose wit is as dry as a Martini and who, in her romp along the corridor of life, kicks open every door, even - especially - the ones which show her behaving really badly. If she's this hard on herself, how will she be on other people? I'm glad I hadn't known at this stage that she's gaining a reputation in London for shouting at waiters, assistants, anyone who doesn't get her what she wants.

She descends the stairs in a palette of cream and beige, squishy hat, cream cashmere pullover, shirt and tie, trousers. She looks older and more vulnerable than I imagine she must in her stage gear - white shirt, black tights for those famous legs. Her eyes are still babyblue but her voice is a growl. She wants tea in the lounge but her favourite spot has gone, so we sweep into the restaurant and set about ordering coffee the way she likes it and fruit cut up the way she likes it.

The Old Vic, where Elaine Stritch at Liberty will be playing, straight from its sell-out, Tonyawardwinning success on Broadway, is a brisk walk across Waterloo Bridge from her hotel but she won't be walking it. At 77, you have to pace yourself. As she says: "I must walk 40 to 50 miles on stage each night. You can't stand still and do that sort of material."

And what material. Even as a girl, Elaine Stritch could do the witty stuff, the wry numbers such as Zip, a delicious take on the inner thoughts of an intellectual stripper from Gypsy. She can patter through Noél Coward and reveal layers of meaning in a Sondheim life-in-a-song.

Her delivery is masterful but the extra miracle is that she was tanked-up when she did this stuff first time round. As Hal Prince's assistant murmured one night: "Great talent, Elaine, don't f*** it up."

"Jesus," as she says about a lot of her very unsober life, "I wish I'd been there. I didn't know I needed a drink until I had it and then, once I had it, the fear disappeared. One reason that made me stop lifting a few was that I wanted to find out what I could accomplish with my own talents."

But that decision came long after she'd blown a few chances. "I'm sore as hell that I wasn't sober the night I went out with Frank Sinatra. I was so scared and nervous I just blew it. And there was a party Noél Coward threw on a yacht on the Thames with people such as Vivien Leigh and Larry Olivier. I had a ball, got loaded, sang, turned Noél Coward onto rock 'n' roll - but to really have been there ... You know, during my period of boozing there were very few thank-you notes, very few calls. I was not aware of the other fella because I was too worried about Elaine."

The young Elaine Stritch was smart, sexy, outrageously talented, highly insecure, unpredictable and so sure of her instincts on stage that she must have made the lives of people she didn't respect sheer hell. I'd say age has just made her more complex.