So it's opening night at last... lots of adjustments right up until the last day, so we're still feeling pretty energized. Our mezzo was sick last night, so was away for the dress, but I hope she'll be feeling better, she is a very dramatic and effective as the gypsy fortune teller who prophesizes a promotion and money for me (see photo above) and death by the hand of a friend for the King.
I've done my opening night present shopping and have to get writing my cards before it gets any later. I'm called an hour before for some hair and makeup work; in case you didn't know, that isn't really my own beard in the photo above, it's the magic of theatre. I really look like this:
I've had lots of encouragement from friends and loved ones, so I'll do my best to do y'all proud, as they say in the 'States. I've become used to being mistaken for an American, and when the lovely Cork residents ask me what part of America I'm from, I say, "Toronto, Canada; and what part of England are you from?" No I don't, not really. I mention it with a smile, of course, after they've blushed and apologized.
Okay, it's off to eat dinner, write my "break a leg" cards and warm up.
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