Ruth's is a mind filled with monsters and heroines, passions and tattoos, colour and secrecy. I do so wish I could regale you with tales of hardship from her troubled youth, Dickensian type woes which often plague our hero in the sinister and shadowy forms of Fagan or Heep or Sikes. This would indeed nicely fit the generally accepted vision of the damaged and tortured artist, yearning for understanding, yet knowing they will never truly be understood in their lifetime.

Unfortunately, Ruth had a rather lovely childhood, and, quite irritatingly so, a supportive family. I know, it's terribly irksome isn't it. Not quite the achingly romantic story of defeating the evil step-mother, conquering the frightful wolf, baking the cackling witch.

Never mind ey. Maybe she'll marry a rotter.