Joanne Haywood delves into the life and theatrical times of one of Britain's finestleading ladies.

JOAN Plowright's name rarely appears in print without the words Laurence Olivier following swiftly behind. Even in her own autobiography, or more precisely her collection of memories and stories of life in the theatre, the first sentence in the first chapter is about Larry.

There are a few pages given over to life before Larry, wryly observed reminiscences of a happy family life in Scunthorpe (oh, the glamour of it all), but most of this not-too-weighty tome is dedicated to her time as first the lover and then the wife of England's most famous acting son.

But she was not always his fiercest fan and she did not always think of him as a god, a title she bestows upon him again and again in later chapters.

In a letter to her father, sent sometime in 1950 when she was an aspiring actor at the Old Vic School, she compared Larry's Hamlet to Michael Redgrave's in non-too favourable terms.

"He (Michael) took the famous 'To be or not to be' well down near the front of the stage, and so quietly and simply that it made Olivier's beautiful diction, dramatic pauses, loud music and despairing cries sound like pure unadulterated ham," she wrote.

"Now I know what Marck (acting coach Wilhelm Marckwald) meant when he said it was Olivier's Hamlet, but not Shakespeare's."

Miss Plowright admits to being startled by the letter, saying she doesn't remember ever feeling like that and that perhaps she was only trying to impress her parents, but she still includes the passage in her book; a decision which bodes well for a reader in search of honesty, humour and a slice or two of unadulterated ham.

The only point on which Miss Plowright remains elusive is the question of her husband's fidelity during their long and, generally, very happy marriage.

In his own autobiography Lord Olivier thanked collectively "those ladies who had been kind to him in an hour of need".

He had nothing more to say about them and neither does his ever loyal, ever-loving wife. She does have plenty to say about almost everything else though.

The book is bursting at the seams with fascinating tales of theatre life, particularly in connection with the founding of the National Theatre, and is peppered with asides about recent events, such as the marriage break up of Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, giving it a somewhat chatty feel, as if you and the author are simply talking over tea and scones in the back garden of The Malthouse, her Sussex home.

Often a tad acerbic and yet always told with wit, her stories are full of life, love and surprises. I mean, did you know that the colossus of British acting called his wife Wumpy Scrumpy or that to ensure she conceived Larry insisted on holding Joan upside down on the bed so that "none of the little buggers can escape".

No? Well, now you do.

And that's not all, but if you want to know more you'll have to buy the book.

And That's Not All: The Memoirs of Joan Plowright (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, £20)