Dear Everyone:

Though my train ticket says I’m “from Toronto,” I’ll “puck ya in da mout,’ b’ye” if you dare call me a “Torontonian.” Allow me to translate--- you see, I’m a transplanted Cape Breton actor and the previous phrase means “I’ll be rather offended” in Cape Bre-English. (If there is “Perthanese” phrase for this, please let me know). A slew of us actors have landed in your beautiful town as we have the honor and privilege of being in the first ever season of the Classic Theatre Festival at the Studio Theatre July 9 - Aug. 29. I play “Edith,” the rather nervous maid, in Blithe Spirit. You might have seen us about talking to ourselves, riding bikes while dressed in garbage bags (we couldn’t fit rain jackets in our suitcases) and making faces in our compact mirrors. Don’t worry, we’re not crazy (actually, that’s debatable). These are just some of the ridiculous things we do as people who make a living making glorious fools of ourselves.

Though I can now expertly elbow my way to the front of the Toronto subway line, I am still a small town girl at heart. Which is why I love the fact that when I went to O’Reilly’s Pub and called a cab because it was raining, a bunch of people I didn’t know clamored on into it as well. Fine with me! Back home, if you tried to get a cab by yourself, the cab driver would say, “Oh, right snobby are ya, yer MAJESTY??” and then stuff more people in it anyway.  I really don't notice the noise of Perth trains either as I grew up next to the Sydney airport. Which is why when I was eating my lunch and the ground shook, I didn’t react. I assumed it was a train. It was only when Mom and Dad called in a panic from Cape Breton that I realized it was an earthquake. Or a Perth-quake, as I was here when I experienced it.

We actors are billeted with kind and generous souls who may by now be going, “Man oh man. I didn’t expect to host someone who sings show tunes at 1 a.m.!” At my lovely billeter’s house I reside with four cats and a dog, which I really enjoy. However, as I review my scenes in the basement each night, all four cats perch themselves on my bed, looking at me askance as I shriek my lines in a Cockney accent. And when I practice my song, all of a sudden all four start to simultaneously yowl along. Geez, everyone’s a critic.

Our days are spent trying to figure out where martini shakers go on stage, walking around in shoes that belong to the characters we’re trying to become and going through more emotions in one day than most people go through in a year. Our director (and artistic producer) Laurel Smith had the dream of starting this theatre festival 20 years ago. Each day on my way to rehearsal, I think about that. Imagine being chosen to take part in someone’s dream? And as I look around at the talented and giving souls working on this play, I sometimes think, “I wonder what I did to be so lucky as to experience this place and these people this summer?”

Natural disasters aside, we are all thrilled to be in Perth this summer, where we’re on a quest to make new friends, buy up as many antiques as we can fit in our suitcases and make sure the Classic Theatre Festival becomes one of the many things to brag about in Perth for years to come. So if you see us about town talking to ourselves, assume we are just trying to remember our lines. And if by chance we’re singing, feel free to hum along. Don’t worry about singing out of key--- the four cats at my billeter’s place certainly don’t give a hoot about it!

Cheers,

Lindsay Kyte