I was a bit uneasy about yet another night out in a week of performances, but thought, what the hell, I’ll ask to go on early. Which I did. I really wanted to stay and listen to the rest of the stories, but really, really needed one early night. A shame, I love being read to, and there was some really interesting work going on. People talking to angels in telephone boxes, unwilling May Queens, and monsters swimming through concrete, just my sort of thing! I read Cloud Island, in a carefully edited version that kept it to the five minutes allocated (unlike other people, who shall not be named, who royally took the p).
I’m not really nervous, excited more. I keep thinking I ought to go and have a lie down before we have to go (reminds me of the party at the beginning of Gone with the Wind, with all the ladies lying about in their underwear) but I’m too keyed up for it to do much good, which might be why I’m blogging! It’s going to be sweltering in the dressing rooms, and we have full battle dress for the first few scenes then a two-and-a-half-minute quick change into evening wear – getting the boots off is the hardest bit. I bet you thought being in an opera would be glamorous, didn’t you? We are pouring sweat and trying to look like an elegant crowd of courtiers. I did find myself singing the right thing while struggling with a vital prop in the dress rehearsal on Sunday, and thought, Right, we’re ready then! Up until then if anything other than straightforward happened I would forget to sing. To think I considered not doing the Opera this year. As IF.