At today’s Cymbeline rehearsals I had a rather interesting discussion with the director and the set designer about the size of Jacobean beds. They were telling me how they found it strange how small they were, remarking on the fact that English courtiers at the time must have fallen out of bed quite a lot. I wished that I had retorted with the argument that the smallness of the beds, in comparison to modern ones, was offset by the fact that Englishmen from that period were also smaller than the modern variety, but sadly I did not. The reasons for this being twofold: 1) the Japanese for such an elaborate riposte was beyond me; and 2) there is every chance that I had completely misinterpreted the conversation, and was instead engaged in a debate concerning the practicalities of early 17th century chamber pots. I thus opted for the much safer option of nodding my head, laughing when I thought it was appropriate, and shrugging my shoulders in such a way so as to convey my sense of ridicule towards those crazy Brits. The outcome of which no doubt made me look like a drunken marionette.
This evening I had a rather interesting engagement, as I had received an email from ‘Grind Magazine’, asking me to come to a fitting for a possible modeling job. Obviously I was somewhat skeptical, but everything seemed above board, and when I got to the place there were plenty of other gaijin, which went someway to convincing me that I hadn’t accidentally become contractually involved in a series of adult movies. The head of the magazine seemed to find it incredible that I had never modeled before, and I certainly seemed to be having my photo taken more than everybody else that had turned up, although this probably had more to do with the fact that the photographer could not believe that anyone’s hands could turn that shade of white simply from the cold. I just smiled, tried my best to look ‘angsty’, and pushed from my mind the fact that I could no longer feel my toes. We hear back soon if they want to use us or not, but unless there is a cover shoot for ‘Poor Circulation Monthly’, I shan’t hold my breath.