Four Sleeps (extended edition)


When I was younger, much anticipated events were measured by how many sleeps away they were. It was a good way of containing the sometimes overwhelming excitement that might erupt at any moment. Christmas, (back when Santa still existed), Easter (back when chocolate contained no calories), Birthdays (back before I started lying about my age. Incidentally, the 15th August marks my 25th yet again!).

Today, I find myself counting the sleeps 'til I am back in New York. Or perhaps, more accurately, when I am no longer in Laconia. To bring you up to speed, I write from New Hampshire, where I have been acting at the Winnipesaukee Playhouse for nearly seven weeks. This has not been without its charm. Working as an actor (even working very hard as an actor) seems to still hold much appeal, which is comforting given the two years of grad school which loom ahead. And spending my summer in the tourist populated 'Lakes Region' seemed also to hold much appeal. Laconia even seemed a good omen. I have oft heard Australians described as laconic. And I like Australians.

Apparently, as well as describing men of few words, laconic can also mean 'short and terse'. This has played out more than once, from the first day when a local yelled at me for walking on his 'private road', to the librarian who kicked me off the 15-minute email terminal in an empty library. Not to mention the old man on the bench, (no doubt his private bench) who, instead of choosing from some of the more popular greetings like, "hello there ma'am" or "Good Day to you, young lady," informed me rather gruffly and loudly that I was "WEARING A MAN'S HAT!"

While the theatre is in the much more lively 'Weirs Beach', my accomodation here in Laconia has been quite eye opening. It's the sort of town where the Thursday special at the 'Soda Shoppe' is 'Cheeseburger Soup', and the consultation rooms at the local medical centre have wide open bay windows that look out onto Main Street.

While not rehearsing or performing, I have found much solace at the Gym. A lovely, modern facility with a big pool, multiple machines, a locker room far less crowded than the one bathroom eight of us share at the condo, and a regular Yoga class that has helped me keep my sanity. Still, the gym is not without its own cast of characters, like the large naked lady in the locker room who is usually on for a friendly naked chat, and the 'Step Combo' instructor; a man named Janine.

The three productions have gone very, very well. I particularly enjoyed the first one, in which I got to play the title role in A.R Gurney's "Sylvia". The reviewer seemed to like it too. So much so that she has made reference to it in the reviews for both the subsequent shows. My mention for this final production ('Polish Joke') simply said, "Joining him on stage in multiple roles ... is the ever adorable E. H. (‘woof’!)". (Sylvia is a dog, in case that seems particularly offensive.)

Now that we have made it to the run for the final show I have found some time to have a little fun. Yesterday I spent the afternoon throwing myself down waterslides at 'Surfcoaster USA'. The sort of activity that catapults one instantaneously back to pre-teens, and inspires the use of words like 'bodacious' and 'righteous'. There has also been much lying by the lake, catching up on reading, and as many times as possible, eating at 'Lago' (the one restaurant that will serve you dinner after 10pm. Or at least, the one that I've found.)

Regrettably, my only romantic prospect came in the form of a shirtless 20 year old lad who used the time-honoured technique of hitting me with a wayward football as I was innocently sunning myself on the near-empty beach. Cutting to the chase, he asked me to join the game, followed quickly by my age, my phone number and, to seal the deal, if I'd like to take a ride in his friends car to experience the wonders of his new 20 inch rims. I looked at him as blankly as he looked at me when I told him I was 'acting'... 'IN A PLAY'. And while I have since gained at least a cursory understanding of what indeed 20 inch rims are, I'm yet to verify whether he has made it into a theatre. Ah well, another unhappy end for an unlikely pair of star (or beach football) crossed lovers.